The Mistake
by dabbling
Summary: This one has it all: Crime, drama, hurt, angst, romance, friendship,etc A convoluted murder mystery that hits a little too close to home. All my favorites: Bobby/Alex; Deakins, and Logan. And Logan might get some romance too!
1. Chapter 1

The Mistake

Chapter 1

Goren had done it again. His head was so wrapped up in the case that he barely remembered to eat. He'd gotten his days all mixed up, missed a dental appointment, let the produce in the fridge expire, and wasn't even finishing his sentences anymore.

Eames couldn't help but worry about him, but she knew she had to give him his head, so he could make sense of it all. She watched him wander out of 1PP; purpose in his stride, but not in his eyes. His eyes were somewhere else, probably probing the mind of the killer.

Once he was out of sight, she sat down at her computer and continued reading.

* * *

Bobby charmed the receptionist into answering a few more questions for him. She was startled that the detective would be so interested in the kinds of buttons on her boss's shirts, but then again, that's what detectives had to do, right? Show an interest in everything.

"Iridescent Lavender," he repeated to himself as he walked down the short flight of stairs to the parking garage. He'd barely stepped through the door, when he found himself confronted by two men. The one on the left was wearing a hoody that was too big; his face was in darkness. The one on the right was Ron Kitchum, one of their suspects. Bobby had effectively been yanked into the present moment. He took them both in. Hoody was bigger, as big as Bobby. Suddenly, Bobby chucked his binder at Hoody's face, causing him to back out of the picture for a moment. Simultaneously, he reached for his weapon and turned toward Kitchum, but too late. He felt the sharp slash of the knife into his side. Bobby lashed out, grabbing Kitchum by the neck but then slid to his knees and crumpled on the concrete. He felt hands on his holster. He reached back, but his reflexes were too slow. The footsteps of the two men faded into the distance and Bobby gasped, trying to keep his breathing steady in spite of the pain.

He reached a bloody hand into his jacket pocket and got his cell phone. As he pushed the numbers, the slimy blood caused it to squirt right out of his hand. The phone lay only a few feet away. Goren summoned his strength and lunged forward, only to fall hard on the cold concrete. "Bleeding," he whispered to himself, trying desperately to keep his wits about him. He cried out as he leaned hard on his right arm, hoping his body weight would supply enough direct pressure to slow the bleeding. With his left, he reached for the cell. His index finger managed to touch it, but couldn't quite get it. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Bobby grunted again, leaning hard on his arm to stop the bleeding. He listened to his cries of help echo through the garage until he felt himself slip into the blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

_He listened to his cries of help echo through the garage until he felt himself slip into the blackness._

Chapter 2

**4 Days Earlier**

They approached the crime scene with care. The old man was spread eagle on his desk, slashes and blood everywhere. His dress shirt was hanging open all the way from his neck to his waist. The blood had glued his shirt to his body in places.

Eames surveyed the scene. "No defensive marks. Abrasions on his wrists. He was tied up, couldn't resist. Cuts look clean, like a dagger."

Goren nodded agreement. He motioned to the man's shirt. "Buttons were cut off, he mumbled. He caught a passing CSU officer by the shoulder. "Look for buttons." The man nodded and moved on.

Goren moved closer to the body and touched the man's skin, gently pulling back to look at one of the slashes. "Pretty deep, I'd say at least a 5 or 6 inch blade."

"What's up with the positioning?" Eames asked.

Goren shrugged. "Could be sexual, could be domination, demonstration of power…"

Eames surveyed the room, leaving Goren with the body. She saw a stack of books on the shelf. The dust pattern indicated one was missing. She nudged the photographer. "Get a picture of this," she said. He did as he was told, and then she collected the other books into evidence, scanning the titles. "These look like fashion catalogs, pretty old… 1967, 1953… 1945," she told Bobby, reading off the covers.

"There are no… nick marks on the skin near the button line of his shirt." He looked up at Eames. "The buttons were cut off…after…he was killed."

"Button," one of the CSU agents called. He held up a baggie and showed Detective Goren.

Bobby held the bag still and looked carefully. "Blue." He thanked the CSU officer and looked back at the old man's amethyst shirt.

* * *

Eames showed her badge to the nurse, and he let her enter. Bobby looked like a corpse. She shuddered, and pushed back the thought. He was still alive, even if just barely. He was on a ventilator and they were trying to replace some of the blood he'd lost.

Eames looked him over with scrutiny. His clothing had been cut off, but they had not done anything to clean him up beyond his wound. She looked closely at his bloody hands. In the fingernails of his right hand, she saw flesh. She looked out the window to the hall and motioned for a CSU officer to enter. The young woman came in hurriedly, carrying her kit. Alex held up Bobby's hand. "He got a piece of him," she explained, then moved out of the way and allowed her mind to shift back from detective mode to concerned friend. She took a deep breath and bit back tears, reminding herself again that he was still here, still fighting.

The doctor came in and checked Goren's chart. He turned to Eames, who flashed her badge. "You his partner?"

She nodded.

"Any family?"

"N-no. His mother is… in a home. Brother's an addict, good at vanishing for months at a time." She looked at the doctor and swallowed hard. "I'm it."

The doctor glanced around. This was not typical, but he knew how strong the bonds between police partners were. He nodded. "We're trying to get him strong enough for surgery. The knife damaged his bowels. We need to get in there, repair it, clean it up. We need to make sure his other organs are all right. He lost a lot of blood. It may be another hour or two before we can get him into surgery." His eyes conveyed compassion. "Stay close."

* * *

Mike Logan canvassed the crime scene with several uniformed officers. He pointed out the blood spots on the concrete. "The attack was here…" he pointed to the next one, "then he moved over there? That's pretty far for a guy with his guts cut open." Mike was chilled by his own choice of words.

"We found his cell phone over there," explained a younger detective. "It's in evidence."

Logan nodded. "He was trying to get to his phone. Call for help." He looked back to the junior detective. "His weapon?"  
The man shook his head. "No sign of it."

"You guys find anything else out here?"

"Yeah." The man walked over to the car and held up a large bag containing the binder. "Just this."

"Yeah, we're gonna need that. That's where he keeps everything on the case he's working."

"We'll process it ASAP and get it back to you," the young man promised.

Logan looked back at the door to the stairwell, the blood stains on the floor, and around the garage in general. Looking back at the stairwell, he knew that Bobby hadn't seen his attack coming. He came in through the door and they were on him. Logan's face was grim.

* * *

**3 Days Earlier**

Leslie Hearne, the receptionist, walked into the conference room hesitantly. Goren held the door for her, thanking her for coming in. Eames held out a chair for her and she sat down.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Leslie said. "I was just so…" She choked up and Goren saved her from explaining further.

"It was a terrible shock for you," he said. "We understand, and we're very sorry for your loss," he said sincerely.

Eames bent down next to the woman. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda?"

"Uhm, maybe a soda, thanks."

Eames whispered, "Be right back," and left the room.

Goren sat down with Leslie, his notebook open to a blank page and pencil in hand. "Mrs. Hearne, maybe let's just start by you running through the events of yesterday for me."

"Uh, I came in to work and the door wasn't locked. That was odd, so I went in cautiously and I noticed Mr. Purcell's door was open and-" tears started and Goren handed her a tissue from the box on the table. "I found him, on the desk like that- I ran out of the room and called 911."

"Okay, uhm, thanks." Goren wrote something down. Eames returned with a soda for Leslie and coffees for herself and her partner. She sat them down in front of each person and then settled in next to Leslie. "What about the day before?" Goren asked. "Just kind of… review that day for me."

She sipped from the cold can and started to speak. "I went in at 8 like I usually do. Mr. Purcell wasn't in yet, sometimes he comes in later on Tuesdays."

"Why?" pressed Goren.

"What does he do on Tuesday mornings?" Eames asked more softly.

"Uh, he goes to a gym, I think. He always has extra clothes with him on Tuesday mornings… well, _had."_

Again, Goren scribbled a note on his ledger. "Continue," he prompted.

She thought back to Tuesday morning. "At about 9:30, Mr. Purcell came in, said good morning. He took the garment bag in his office with him and I didn't see him again until after I took my lunch."

"Any calls in or out during that time?" asked Bobby.

"Only a handful. It was a quiet day."

"Is there a record of who called?" Eames asked.

She nodded, "Not all of them, because Mr. Purcell accepted some of the calls. But the rest should be in the phone message book. There was a lady. She called a couple of times, but he didn't take her call."

Eames leaned in a little. "You think her calls might be significant?"

"I don't know, she was just somebody new. And the last time she called that day, she said she was sorry for bothering me. I thought that was nice, you know? And something about the way she said 'sorry,' like she pronounced the 'O.' I hadn't really ever heard anyone say it that way before."

Goren pronounced it for them. "Soorry."

"Yeah, that was it!"

He looked at Eames. "Chicago."

"Did she leave her number?"

"No she said she'd just send him an email." Goren glanced at Eames.

* * *

Deakins was holding a bullpen session in the hospital waiting room. Eames, Logan, and Carver were all there.

"I'll get the warrants," Carver said. "We're lucky to get that DNA evidence."

"It's not luck," said Mike. "Bobby knew exactly what he was doing." Deakins and Eames' agreement was written on their faces. Logan straightened up. He hated hospitals. He turned to his Captain. "I'll go bring the bastard in."

Logan and Carver left. Deakins went over to Eames and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to go track down some grub. You want something? Some soup or salad, maybe?"

Alex shook her head slightly. She wasn't the least bit hungry; it was the last thing on her mind.

Deakins' face softened a bit. "I'll get you a soup. In case you change your mind." His cell phone rang as he walked down the hall. "Deakins," he barked into the phone. He was in for the long haul. In essence, he'd made the hospital his office.

Major Case had also organized a vigil around Goren and Eames. Besides Alex and the Captain, at least one of the other detectives in the squad would always be present until they knew one way or another how things were going to come out.


	3. Chapter 3

"_I'll go bring the bastard in." (Logan)_

Chapter 3

Alex sat at Bobby's side, waiting for him to come around. The waiting was starting to get to her. She felt like she might crawl out of her skin. She took a deep breath and sighed. At least she was with him now. Waiting for him to come out of surgery had been much worse.

Bobby's head moved slightly, so slightly that she thought she imagined it. "Bobby?" Alex asked. She was rewarded when his facial expression changed.

"Bobby, it's all right. You're in the hospital. You're going to be just fine."

He seemed relaxed for a moment, but then started to struggle with something in his mind. Alex thought she knew what was troubling him. "We found his skin in your nails. Logan is picking up Kitchum right now. You did good, Bobby. We got him."

Finally, Bobby managed to open his eyes, though he had trouble focusing. He slowly lifted his left hand, with 2 fingers out.

"There were two of them? Kitchum wasn't alone," she said. Bobby's eyes focused on hers for a moment. "I'll call Logan." She stepped away and dialed her cell phone. "Mike, Bobby woke up. Kitchum had an accomplice. Yeah, I'll tell him." Closing her phone, she returned to Bobby's side. He had drifted back into sleep. She sat down and squeezed his hand. "You're gonna be all right, Bobby."

* * *

"Right now, you're about the most hated guy in the city of New York. Stabbing a cop and leaving him for dead. You're lucky you got into this room in one piece." Logan's voice was level and almost sinister.

"That some kind of threat?" Kitchum asked, raising an eyebrow to the detective.

Logan grinned, "Just the truth, plain and simple. And here's another one: You'll be lucky to get back to your cell in one piece, too."

"I ain't sayin' shit without my lawyer."

Logan tucked his thumbs into his pockets. "Fine, that's fine. We've got solid evidence to put you away, anyhow." He walked over, patted the sore spot on Kitchum's neck a little harder than necessary. "This musta hurt, huh?"

Kitchum jumped back. "Ah! Don't touch me, you son of a bitch!"

Logan grinned. "Sorry."

He stepped back toward the door, leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest. "Now, I understand you had an accomplice."

Kitchum's gaze jumped up momentarily.

"Now, maybe, you help me find this guy, recover Detective Goren's weapon, maybe the DA will make some kind of deal with you… otherwise, it's all coming down hard on you. You tried to kill a cop. Every cop, every lawyer, every judge, every prison guard you come across is going to be thinking in the back of their minds how you could have just as easily tried to kill them. They're going to think of friends lost in the line of duty. And they're gonna be looking right at you." Mike straightened up and moved to the door. "You can talk things over with your lawyer."

With that, he walked out of the interrogation room.

* * *

"Bobby, you're looking better all the time," Alex smiled at him. They'd finally removed the ventilator, but he was still as pale as a ghost. An oxygen tube stretched under his nose. He was conscious, but just couldn't find the strength to keep his eyes open. He winced and a voiceless gasp escaped his lips.

"You're in pain?" She asked.

He clenched his jaw and waited it out.

"I'll call the nurse," she said, and pushed the button. "He's in pain," she explained as the nurse came in the door.

"Mr. Goren?" the nurse inquired, "Did you want something for the pain?"

Still with his eyes shut, Bobby mouthed a 'yes.' The nurse pushed the button that dispensed morphine into his IV. Almost immediately, the tension in his face lessened.

Deakins was in the doorway. He moved aside to let the nurse leave the room and motioned for Eames. Seeing that Bobby was comfortable again, she walked out into the hall.

"You should get some rest," the Captain said.

"I'm not leaving," she said firmly.

"Okay, okay. There's a room down the hall the nurses said you could use. I can stay with Goren a while… I'll come get you if he asks for you."

Alex looked back at Bobby and frowned. She knew the Captain was right, and even if she stayed in Bobby's room to sleep, she wouldn't sleep well in that vinyl chair with her feet tucked under her.

"He's gonna need a lot of rest the next couple of days. He'll need you more when he's awake, and starting to get around."

She looked back at her friend one more time and then nodded. Deakins watched as the nurse he'd spoken with pointed her toward the empty room down the hall. Then he went in to sit vigil with Bobby.

Alex slid out of her shoes and climbed into the bed. Her mind was racing, reliving the last 24 hours, wondering if she really should leave him to get sleep, wondering if she should tell his mother… she decided to wait and ask Bobby about that. Strangely, she did feel herself drifting off. She remembered telling Bobby about Kitchum's DNA… she was proud of him. Not many people would be able to keep their head after being stabbed like that. He really was extraordinary.

* * *

Deakins looked up with concern. Bobby was saying something over and over, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. "Goren, you all right?" he asked tentatively.

Bobby struggled to open his eyes and then tried to tell Deakins again.

Frustrated, Deakins still couldn't get it. He found a notepad on the side table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He held it for Goren, who wrote without really seeing what he was writing. His handwriting was usually somewhat sloppy, but words written with his eyes half shut at this bizarre angle from a hospital bed… It took Deakins a minute to decipher the handwriting. "Iridescent lavender?" he asked. Bobby scribbled on the paper again. "Buttons." Something clicked. "I'll call Logan," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Iridescent lavender?" he asked. Bobby scribbled on the paper again. "Buttons." Something clicked. "I'll call Logan," he said._

Chapter 4

"It's not a match," Logan said into the phone. "That stray button from the crime scene was blue, not lavender." He waited, listening to Deakins comment on the other end of the phone. "Yeah. Or maybe he was with somebody when he did it."

Logan set his eyes on Kitchum, who was talking quietly with his lawyer. The lawyer waved to the two-way mirror, and Logan reentered the interrogation room.

"He's ready to answer your questions," the lawyer said.

"Who was with you?" Mike asked, slapping his notebook on the table as he sat down. He clicked the lead on his mechanical pencil.

Kitchum was hesitant. "His name's Ben Flores. He's the one that set this all up. He called me, told me what to do."

Logan looked at him skeptically. Another criminal trying to save his own ass. He waited for the man to continue.

"The old man, he was into a little… he was into guys, and he had a thing going with this guy named Bishop. They would meet at the office."

Logan silently wrote in his notebook.

"Well, Ben's friends with this Bishop guy, too, and I guess he got jealous and he… he killed Old Man Purcell."

"And then he talks you into trying to kill a friend of mine."

"You don't understand. Ben, he… he woulda killed me if I didn't go along."

Mike sniffed and leaned back in the chair. He felt a little weird asking the question, but Goren was usually right to pursue these little oddities. "You ever seen Bishop or Flores wear a kind of purple shirt? Like light purple?"

Kitchum stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. He thought for a long time. Yeah, I think I saw Bishop wear one like that sometimes."

"What about blue? Like navy blue?"

"I dunno, maybe."

Mike wrote in his notebook. "So how'd you get wrapped up in all this?"

He shrugged. "The Old Man hired me sometimes… to run errands for him."

"What kind of errands?"

Kitchum shrugged again. "Just errands. Pick up the dry cleaning; deliver some wallpaper to his house, stuff like that. Been doing it for two years, off and on."

"Where'd he get his dry cleaning done?"

"Little place on East 14th."

"He ever get any tailoring done?"

"I don't know."

The lawyer leaned forward. "All right, he's done his part. What kind of a deal can we expect?"

Mike held up his index finger. "What happened to the knife? And Goren's weapon?"

"Flores said to give them to him, that he'd take care of them."

The lawyer gave Logan an impatient look. Mike took more than a little pleasure in giving the lawyer an answer that wasn't really an answer. "I'll have to run it by ADA Carver. He's in court today. I'm sure he'll give you a call."

* * *

Eames carefully touched the spoonful of ice chips to Bobby's dry lips. She waited while he licked at them, and then offered him another.

There was a commotion at the door, and Frank Goren burst into the room. "My God, Bobby! Bobby, My God, they killed you! They killed you!" he wailed. Bobby's heart monitor went from a steady, healthy pace to twice as fast. Eames stood up, protectively, blocking Frank's view while Deakins and another detective from Major Case wrestled him out of the room.

A nurse rushed in to check on Bobby and Eames stepped into the hallway to see what was going on. Her expression was torn. She needed to comfort her friend, but realized he couldn't be comforted without answers. She went down the hall to the waiting room, where Deakins had Frank in handcuffs on a chair.

"If you care about him so much, you'd realize the last thing he needs to see is you higher than a kite telling him how bad he looks!" Deakins' face was flushed and his voice angry.

Frank burst into sobs. "You're right, you're right," he cried. "Bobby…" He cried hard, letting the tears soak into a pile of magazines on the coffee table in front of him.

Deakins sighed, and his voice softened. "Look, I know you're worried. We all are. You hand over whatever you're carrying and we'll let you hang around here. You can see him when you come down."

Frank blinked out a few more tears and sniffed loudly. "In my bag," he said.

Deakins picked up the stained and smelly backpack. "Any sharps?" he asked, holding it out to the other detective. Frank nodded, and Deakins said quietly to his man, "Be careful." Then he moved to sit by Frank and unlock the handcuffs.

Eames turned and went back to Bobby's room. The nurse seemed at a loss as to how to help him. His heart monitor still beeped at an unhealthy pace. Alex approached Bobby's left side and splayed the fingers of her left hand over his heart. "Bobby, look at me," she said sternly.

His face flinched angrily as the fast beeping continued.

"Look at me, Bobby," she ordered. He forced his eyes open, stared into hers.

Deakins has Frank. He's not going to jail. He's gonna keep an eye on him, keep him out of trouble."

She saw the tension in his face ease just a bit, and continued. "And you're doing great, Bobby. You're getting stronger all the time. You're doing great," she repeated.

A tear slipped down, only to get hung up in the oxygen tube that stretched across his cheek. She brushed it away with the thumb of her right hand and kept repeating, "You'll be just fine, Bobby. You're already better than when they brought you in. You're doing great, Bobby."

After several minutes of her reassurance, his heart rate finally returned to normal and he drifted off to sleep. Alex sat back in the chair by the bed and tried to relax the tightness she felt in her hands, arms, and back. She was so angry with Frank, she'd like to give him a good beating. How could he? He knows how much Bobby despises his drug use. They're brothers. He knows how deeply Bobby cares. How could he burst in like that and throw Bobby for a loop?

Eames rubbed her hands and tried to smooth the anger out of them. After checking that Bobby was sound asleep, she rose and stepped into the hall. She saw Deakins walking with Frank down the north hall towards the bathrooms. She was struck by the resemblance between Frank and his brother. Their looks were quite different, but she saw something in the way Frank carried himself, in the smoothness of his stride… her anger dissipated.

Frank was as human as any of them, and after all, it wasn't him talking, it was the drugs. If anything could send a person off the wagon, it would be the fear of losing your only brother. She didn't excuse his behavior, but she softened, knowing the source of his weakness.

Alex went back into the room. One glance at Bobby, and she felt it all lurching up within her. She quickly ducked into the room's bathroom and shut the door. Deep, anguished sobs rose and shook her body. She braced her hands on the sides of the sink and tried to wrestle her sobs to silence.

She wasn't sure how long it had taken, but she felt a little lighter once she had finished. She wiped her face and opened the door, to find her Captain hanging around in the room.

Deakins glanced down quickly. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Eames just nodded, afraid that words might send the tears wracking through her body again. Captain Deakins turned to look at Bobby while he softly spoke to her. "This is the most convoluted case I think I've ever seen. Logan just called to update me. It looks like some kind of… love hexagon or something." He grinned slightly as he uttered the phrase. "You should call Mike, see if what he's got meshes with those emails you were going through."

Eames nodded. "Give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Sure," Deakins smiled, and left the room.

Eames walked over to Bobby's bed and sat beside him. Her emotions were all over the place today. She folded her arms and raged inside that any kind of love triangle would result in death. Thank God they'd found Bobby before it was too late. She thought back to the emails she'd been reading at the precinct.

None of it seemed to fit together properly. Old Man Purcell was at the center of it all, and ended up dead because of it. She grabbed a piece of notepaper off the tiny pad on the bedside table. She wrote down the names, putting Purcell in the middle, like a web. She drew lines from Purcell to Kitchum, from Kitchum to Bishop, and from Bishop to Purcell. But the Captain had said it was a hexagon.

Alex drew three more circles near Purcell's name and picked up her cell phone. She pressed the speed dial number for Logan.

"Logan," he answered.

"Hi Mike," she said.

"Eames, how's Bobby?" he asked, with genuine interest.

"He's okay, resting. The Captain said we should compare notes."

"Yeah, I got some new info from Kitchum. He says his accomplice was Ben Flores, and that Flores was sleeping with Bishop. Well, I did some digging, Bishop's banging a girl named Brini on his off-nights, playing for both teams. I don't know her last name yet."

Eames filled in the circles. She drew a line from Bishop to Flores, and from Bishop to Brini. She frowned and looked at her diagram. "The emails were mostly from Purcell to Kitchum, but Kitchum also wrote to someone named Felicia Morales. One of her emails mentioned someone named Brini. It was only one occurrence, though. It didn't seem significant."

"Could be now," offered Mike. He had a similar diagram on the white board in front of him. "We're tracking down Flores now, going to bring him in and see if he can fill in some of the gaps. Eames, we don't know which one stabbed Goren. Kitchum's putting it all on Flores. The Old Man, too. I think it's B.S., myself."

She nodded. "Kitchum's skin was in Bobby's nails. I think we've got him hard and fast. What about Bobby's binder?" she asked hopefully.

Mike groaned. "It's like trying to clean out a hoarder's house. There's so much stuff in there, and his notes are so cryptic, I-"

"I get it," she said. Bobby's head turned and there was a whisper of a moan. "I gotta go. We'll check in again later," she said and hung up.

Bobby Goren opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. First he saw a pock-marked ceiling tile, then a drip bag for an IV. He turned his attention the other way, and saw a computer monitor. Then he realized it was monitoring him. He blinked hard, trying to shake himself out of the heavy fog his head was in. Soon, Eames' face was looking over him, smiling. He felt her hand on his, and it was better. He took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain in his side.

Her other hand smoothed his hair back. "It's okay, Bobby, you're doing great."

He tried to speak, but nothing, absolutely nothing came out, not even enough for a whisper.

"You had a tube in your throat before. It'll take a while before you can talk again." She pressed down on his curls again and smiled. "Are you thirsty?"

God, was he thirsty! He nodded, and soon felt a trickle of water on his lips. He licked at it greedily, but it was gone as soon as she put it there. "More," he mouthed, and she gave him another spoonful. He was frustrated by the whole process. All he wanted was a drink, a gulp of water. Instead, he had to endure this tedious drip-by-drip into his parched mouth. At last, he'd had enough. He was still thirsty, but it just wasn't worth the effort. He turned his head away.

Eames misread this, and thought he wanted to be alone. She put the cup of ice chips down and sat back in the chair, pulling her hand away. His head turned back and he reached for her hand. She willingly gave it back to him.

"Are you hurting?" she asked him, glancing down at his side.

Yes, it hurt, but it wasn't so bad, he thought. He shrugged off her question and squeezed her hand tighter as he shut his eyes. He couldn't understand why he was so tired.

* * *

Logan came in an hour later and found Eames hunched over Bobby's hand, sound asleep. It looked completely uncomfortable, but he was reluctant to wake her. Goren was sleeping, too, and looked more like a human being than he had in days. The color was coming back to his face.

Mike turned to leave again when he noticed the diagram on the notepad on the table. He carefully stepped around Eames and picked it up. It looked very much like the one he had drawn, only hers had Purcell in the middle, and connected by a line to each of the others.


	5. Chapter 5

"_What about Bobby's binder?" Eames asked hopefully._

_ Mike groaned. "It's like trying to clean out a hoarder's house."_

Chapter 5

Mike sat at a booth alone in the bar, the table littered with napkins. He had a name written on each napkin and kept rearranging them, trying to sort out the complicated relationships between all the people involved in the case.

"Mikey," said a slightly slutty-looking girl as she slid into the booth next to him.

He smiled in a distracted way. "Oh, hey, Gretchen."

She looked disappointed. Apparently, her overtures were usually met with more enthusiasm. She put her hand on his pants leg and pouted a little, making sure to dip her torso so he couldn't help but look at her scoop-necked top and her robust cleavage.

He looked, but didn't take the bait. "Not tonight, honey. I'm on a case, okay? Maybe some other time."

She was disappointed, but accepted his answer. "I'll hold you to that," she said, giving his leg a squeeze and trotting off to the back of the bar.

Mike stared at the napkins again. He moved Purcell out of the central spot, and replaced him with Bishop. This made him tilt his head slightly. His cell phone interrupted his thoughts. "Logan," he barked.

"Damn I didn't expect you to answer," said the voice on the other end.

"What's up," asked Logan.

"Steve Bishop's car turned up in a parking garage off 42nd Street. Been sitting there for days."

"Text me the location," Logan said, and hung up. Seconds later his phone rang its special 'texting' ring. He looked at it and left some money on the table to pay his tab.

* * *

Deakins was dozing in the bedside chair, a newspaper folded in his lap. He heard Goren say something, and shook himself awake. The paper slid out of his lap as he leaned forward.

"Food?" Bobby asked a second time.

"Oh, uh, I don't know. I'll go ask the nurse," said Deakins and left the room, scooping the paper up off the floor as he went.

He returned a few minutes later. "She said she'll bring you something, and I can give you this for now." He held up a paper cup with a straw sticking out of the top. He held the straw between his fingers so Goren could take a sip. He damn near drank half the glass. "Whoa, maybe you better slow down a little," Deakins suggested.

"Eames?" Goren asked, his voice still very hoarse.

"She's down the hall. You want me to get her?"

Bobby nodded.

The nurse and Eames came in together. "Good news, Detective," the nurse said, "the doctor has okayed a bit of jello for you tonight." She held it up for him to see. "Red," she winked, "I only give my favorite patients red. The ones that cause me trouble get nasty green jello." Bobby smiled at her joke and Eames chuckled.

Eames took the jello and the spoon and sat down next to Bobby to feed him. Her hair was out of place, he noticed, like she'd been asleep. He wanted to apologize to her but the first bite of jello tasted so good he couldn't think of anything else. He enjoyed the sensation as it slid down his dry and sore throat. Eames couldn't give the spoon to him fast enough, he was so eager to eat something. They were both disappointed when the cup was empty. She offered Bobby the cup of water and he drank it down.

"Were you sleeping?" he whispered.

She nodded, "Just down the hall, there's a bed." She didn't want him to feel bad for waking her. "Deakins is probably in it now. I was going to relieve him soon anyway."

"How long?" Bobby asked. He knew the times he'd awakened, he'd always seen either Eames or his boss. He hoped he hadn't completely disrupted their lives.

"Just a few days," she said, not wanting to be more specific. "I took some leave. The Captain's been doing most of his work from here. It's not a big deal," she said, though she knew Bobby would see through her lie.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Bobby, you were attacked. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

He shook his head adamantly. "Mistake… my mistake. I should have-"

She stopped him mid-sentence. "I'm not going to listen to that kind of talk. It is what it is, and that's all."

He closed his lips and stared at the wall for a moment. "Frank?" He asked, remembering something vague and frightening.

It hurt her to have to tell him. "He was here for a while, but he left. We haven't heard from him since."

"He was high." It wasn't a question.

She nodded sadly.

Bobby raised his hand and scrubbed it across his face, knocking the oxygen tube askew. Eames helped him fix it. They sat in a weighted silence for a few minutes, until Bobby saw the tv hanging from the ceiling. He looked at the table. "Remote?" he asked.

She got it for him and sat back in the chair while he flipped channels.

* * *

The car seemed like any other at first glance. The uniforms were about to have it towed to the impound when they found out Major Case might be interested. They sat on it until Mike Logan arrived. He gloved up and walked around the car, looking at it carefully.

"It's as clean as mine, probably runs better," a uniformed cop joked.

Mike saw something in the seam of caulking around the windshield that he thought looked strange. He opened the driver's door, looked closely at the dash, the defrost vents. He pulled back out of the vehicle and looked over at the other cop. "You got goggles?" he asked.

"Sure," the man said and opened his trunk. He gave them to Mike, who also donned a small blue face mask. Mike took the master key from one of the officers, got in and turned the defroster on full blast. Then he turned the ignition on and was pelted with tiny shards of glass coming from the vents. He turned it off, and scooped up some of the debris with a handkerchief. He gave it to the uniform and took off his protective wear. "Call CSU," he said, and tried to brush some of the fine glass out of his hair.

* * *

**Two days before the mistake**

Bobby read the fax that had just come through and stuffed it unceremoniously into his binder. He marched over to his desk and sat down, staring at a nick in the corner of the veneer.

"Eames," he asked, "You get anything in those emails from Chicago?"

"Yeah, there's a contact there, but nothing telling in the content. Sounds like an old friend just wanting to reconnect."

Bobby fingered the buttons on his dress shirt while he thought. "This old friend, any connection with the fashion business?"

"No, I checked her out. She seems to be a homemaker. No work history that I could find. Widowed."

Bobby's brow furrowed and he leaned forward and took one of the fashion catalogs off Eames' desk. He flipped through some of the pages, then looked at the catalog when it was closed. He opened it again, his mind so intent on his own thoughts that he didn't notice his partner peeking over his shoulder.

"Men's wear," she said, startling him. "Right up your alley."

He grinned. "Some men… have shirts custom made… to put a more… personal touch… make a specific impression."

She looked at him with a raised brow.

He laughed. "I just get my stuff off the rack." Goren got back to business right away. "This catalog… it's most worn in the men's section. If Mr. Purcell was the kind of man to custom order shirts, he might like to look at these," he gestured to the little stack of catalogs, "to… get ideas."

**Same day, across town**

Steve Bishop and Leslie Hearne sat across from each other at the linen-covered dining table. The restaurant was full for lunch, and Leslie felt like she was being treated to something really special.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bishop. I can't tell you how worried I was. I'm glad to know that the company will continue without Mr. Purcell."

"Yes, Leslie, I've already spoken to the partners. They're busy with the lawyers right now, but wanted me to inform you that your job is secure." He grinned at her and his fingers played with the 4th button on his shirt.

She couldn't help but notice it was square, rather than round. His buttonholes were a contrasting red to the shirt's white and the buttons were a charcoal gray.

He continued, "I know how hard this all has been for you… finding Lester, and then all the dealings with the police. Have they finally stopped hounding you about it?"

"A detective spoke with me yesterday. About things that happened at work, calls I took. But they haven't bothered me today."

"They asked about your calls? Why? Couldn't they just pull the phone records or something?"

Leslie interpreted his comment as a kind of protective gesture towards her. She was charmed. "Oh, it was nothing. I just told them what I could remember. Really the only call that stood out to me was this woman. The detective said she was from Chicago, because of the way she talked."

"Chicago? How could he tell that?"

"I don't know, really, I just told him how she said 'sorry' and he said she was from Chicago. I wonder if he could be right about that." She took a sip from her water glass. "Anyway, the detectives were very nice to me."

"He can tell where a person's from from just one word? That's astounding. What's this fellow's name?"

"Goren," she said. "Detective Goren. I can't remember his first name." She checked the time on her cell phone. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Bishop, but I need to be getting home. I have the cable man coming tonight, and you know how you have to be there when they come, or else!" She smiled and touched his hand appreciatively. "Thank you for the dinner."

Steve Bishop stood as she left the table, and then settled into his chair again. He pulled up his smart phone and typed in Detective Goren of NYPD.

* * *

Eames sat with Deakins in the hospital café. They both had the remnants of a light breakfast in front of them, and were clinging hard to tall cups of coffee.

"They took him off the oxygen this morning, and said he's going to have to start walking around some," she reported.

"That's good news," said the Captain. "It's been a long week." He took a long drink of coffee and then added, "I think I'm ready to move back to the office."

She nodded, smiling. It was good news. "Captain, thanks."

"Hey, I look out for my people."

She knew he did, but she also knew Goren was a special case. Anyone else on the squad would have had family to come and help out at the hospital. Bobby just didn't. Captain Deakins was just an exceptional person.

"So what about you?" he probed.

"I guess I'll be able to run home and take a shower now and then," she said. "With his moods, I still don't want to leave him for long."

"Nobody knows how to handle him quite like you," Deakins observed. His phone rang. "Deakins," he answered.

Eames made an excuse to leave the table, and he waved to her as she went. She carried her coffee with her back to Bobby's new hospital room. His condition had improved and they'd moved him out of intensive care.

To her surprise, Bobby was sitting in the chair, though he didn't look very comfortable. She saw the empty bed and teased, "Oh I am so going to take a nap!" She hopped up on the bed, smiling.

Bobby couldn't manage a smile. Sitting up was proving to be quite painful. "They said I have to try at least 5 more minutes," he explained.

"Okay, so… power nap," she smiled.

That one got her a grin, but it didn't last long. She looked around the room to make sure no one was watching and then offered him her coffee cup. "Want to try some?"

Bobby took a small sip and smiled, giving it back. Mercifully, the nurse entered just then. "Okay, you ready to go back to bed?" the young man asked.

Eames moved off the bed and watched as the nurse helped Bobby to his feet and back into bed. It was exhausting to watch and must have been even worse for Bobby. At last, he was settled, his back slightly elevated. His face was tense and he had his teeth clenched.

"Now, a couple of these should help with the pain," announced the nurse as he gave Bobby two pills in a paper cup with a glass of water. Bobby took them eagerly and then sat back to wait for them to kick in.

Eames took his fingers in her hand, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. He was hurting, and she couldn't help him.


	6. Chapter 6

"_It's been a long week," Deakins said, and took a long drink from his coffee._

Chapter 6

Eames waited outside while the doctors spoke with Bobby. He'd given her a look, and well, she knew he wanted to speak with them alone. She went out onto the patio to get some fresh air, her mind reeling with thoughts.

It certainly had been a long week. She'd seen and learned things about her partner that she never expected to. Strangely, she wasn't embarrassed by it all. All of the… intimate details just seemed to make her feel closer to him.

Years ago, she'd worked a case involving sexual abuse of adults with severe disabilities. The victims were all impaired physically and verbally. Some had no means of communication at all. The caregivers were responsible for everything for their clients: feeding them, dressing them, changing them when they soiled themselves, cleaning them up. When she interviewed the caregiver who had reported the abuse, she was struck by her words. "Sometimes, by caring _for_ a person, you end up caring _about _them."

* * *

Logan hit the snooze alarm for the 3rd time and opened one eye to see what time the clock read. 9:35. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He rolled himself out of bed and went straight to the shower.

By the time he got to 1PP, he was looking a little perkier. He had stopped for a coffee, and between the hot water of the shower and the extra shot of espresso in his drink, his mind had kicked into gear.

He was surprised to see the Captain in his office. Mike went straight to his door. He moved aside while two detectives shuffled out of the office with repentent looks on their faces.

The Captain shook his head and muttered under his breath. "…like leaving your teenagers home alone." He looked up at Mike. "I hope you've been making some progress."

Mike nodded and sat down. "Bishop's car is being checked by CSU. Still no trace of Flores. I figure he ran after the incident with Goren. Kitchum's story is checking out. Apparently Purcell had a regular thing with Bishop on Monday nights. That's why he brought the clothes to work every Tuesday. Chicago PD hasn't made any headway on this Brini girl he's seeing. It's just not enough to go on. Eames and I have been trying to map it all out…" He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and showed the Captain his latest sketch. The Captain studied it carefully for a few minutes, then gave it back.

"Keep at it, Logan."

"Glad you're back," Logan said before heading back to his desk.

At 10:30, he got a call from CSU. Logan grabbed his suit coat and headed down to the garage.

* * *

"Traces of blood all over the place," the CSU man explained. "As for the what happened, I'll let you talk to Holly." Mike looked around, interested, and was surprised when a fine figure slid out from underneath a car and hopped up, wiping her hands clean with a shop cloth. She stood and removed her safety goggles. Mike found himself looking into a pair of beautiful green eyes.

The man made the introductions, handed Holly a file, and walked away.

Holly shook Mike's hand warmly, then laid the file folder on the hood of a car. "I say somebody was murdered in this car," she announced.

Holly opened the folder and exposed pictures of the car in various states of investigation. "You're the one who found the glass in the vents, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, that only happens when a car windshield is broken from the outside in. Hailstorms, or in this case, I think a sledgehammer." She pointed to a photograph. "We found blood spatter along the inside here, here, and all around here. Somebody smashed in the windshield and then the driver's head."

"Then they clean up the car and get the windshield fixed?"

She shrugged. "Bought himself some more time. It's been sitting in there for four days. He could be out of the country by now."

"Thanks, Holly," Mike said. As he started to walk out, he turned back. "Hey, uhm, do you have a card or something? I'd like to call you sometime."

She knew he was trying to pick her up, but she thought he was cute. She dug in the pocket of her coveralls and pulled out a business card. "Keep up the good work," she said to him as he left.

* * *

"Look what you got!" Eames said cheerfully as she brought in the flowers and set them in the window. Goren was intrigued. The only person who had the personality to send flowers and to care enough about him to do it was in the room with him already.

"Who are they from?" he asked.

She showed him the card. "My sister. She thought they might cheer you up."

"I didn't even think she liked me."

"Look," Alex said, pointing to the card, "Nate signed his name too."

Goren smiled. "Nate likes me." He looked at the flowers. At least they made the room more interesting.

"Bobby," she began, but wasn't sure how to continue. At last she stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and just forced herself to keep talking. "I didn't tell your mother anything. I didn't know if you would want-"

"Frank probably told her," he interrupted. "He probably called her and… upset her."

"If you want, I can stop by," Alex offered.

"No, I'll have to call her."

A worried look crossed her face. She was the one who had brought it up, but she knew his mother had been on his mind. She wondered if Bobby could handle a conversation with his mother right now.

Bobby brushed the topic aside. "I'll do it later."

Eames knew what he was doing, and she didn't like it. "Bobby, you already missed your weekly visit with her."

"Look, I know that, okay?" His temper was rising. "I'll do it later."

"Fair enough," Alex said. "When?"

Goren frowned, shook his head back and forth. His mouth worked as if he couldn't get the words out. "3 o'clock!" He finally spit out.

Eames smiled at her win, and sat down next to him. He was angry with her, and she deserved it, but she was right, and he knew it.

Bobby looked at the card he still held in his hand. "Nate made his 'N' backwards," he observed.

She grinned. "Cute," she said, looking at the card again.

He set it on the table. "I guess I should take that walk now."

She nodded and helped him get up. He leaned against her and slowly walked out of the room and down the hall. As they passed the nurse's station, one of the nurses commented, "That's some cane you got there."

Bobby & Alex laughed at the joke, but he stood up a little straighter and took on a little more of his own weight.

* * *

Deakins came out of his office and leaned over Logan's desk. "Just got a call from narcotics. They found Goren's weapon in some kid's apartment." He smiled and went back to his office.

Logan picked up the phone and dialed for about the 50th time that day. "Yeah, I'm Detective Mike Logan, NYPD. I'm looking for the shop that replaced the windshield on a 2005 Nissan Sentra, probably Tuesday or Wednesday last week… you did? It's a dark green one. Yeah?" Mike wrote some notes in his pad. "Thanks." He hung up, put his suit coat back on, and headed out.

At the garage, when he'd finished getting a description and what information he could about the man who probably killed Bishop, Mike's phone rang. It was Deakins.

"Logan, Ben Flores just gave himself up. He's convinced Bishop is dead and wants us to find the killer. He's hysterical."

"I'll be right there, Captain," Mike said, and headed back to the office.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Logan, Ben Flores just gave himself up. He's convinced Bishop is dead and wants us to find the killer. He's hysterical."_

Chapter 7

"They killed him, I swear to God they killed him!" The man was literally crying.

"There's no evidence anywhere that Bishop has been killed," said Deakins.

"What do you call that?" The man yelled, pointing to a priority mail envelope on the desk in front of Deakins.

Deakins picked it up, looked inside the open end, then poured the contents out on the table. Six pearly looking buttons, fancier than anything in his wardrobe, glinted against the overhead lights in the room.

Deakins shrugged. "How do buttons mean Bishop is dead?" he asked.

"Steven was my… lover, okay? He liked to look good. He had shirts made, he ordered special buttons all the time. These were his buttons."

"Buttons are a dime a dozen. How do you know somebody's not just trying to scare you?"

"They were HIS buttons! I know he's gone! He would have called me! They killed him! They killed him!" He sobbed.

Deakins left the man alone in the room and went to watch through the glass while he waited for Logan. He just sat and cried. Occasionally, he would touch one of the buttons, and his sobs would start all over again.

Finally, Logan walked into the observation room. Deakins jerked a thumb at the figure in the window. "Crying like a baby. Has been for the last hour."

"Anything yet?"

"He says somebody killed Bishop, because he got those buttons in the mail."

"Again with the buttons," muttered Mike.

"He said he was there when Kitchum knifed Bobby. I haven't gotten anything else out of him yet."

"Did he say he put Kitchum up to it?"

Deakins shook his head. Mike knew he was going to have a long interrogation ahead of him. He stared at the crying man a few minutes, figuring what approach he would use.

* * *

Bobby napped again in the afternoon. The pain medicine seemed to have that side effect. Alex was glad for the chance to take a walk outside. Sitting in the hospital for a week had started to disconnect her from normal life. Just hearing the sounds of traffic, and birds, and people talking, helped her center herself again.

Bobby's mood had been up and down all morning. He was fighting depression, she could tell. He could use some fresh air, too, but he wasn't up to it yet. The morning walk hadn't even gotten them out of the first hallway.

She shook off the negative thoughts. He had a long way to go, but he had already come so far. She thought back to when she'd first seen him after the attack, the blood still on his hands and arms, his skin so pale. Yes, he'd already come a long way.

Her phone rang, and she saw it was her sister. "Hey," said Alex. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just out for a walk." Eames found a penny on the sidewalk and picked it up, polishing it in her fingers. "He's getting better. I just have to be patient." She listened while her sister lectured her about taking care of herself. "I know, I know," she said. "Liz-" she protested. "Liz, no. I need to be with him. He doesn't have anybody else." There was a brief silence, and then her sister's contrite acceptance. "I know. You're just looking out for me, I know. Thanks for the flowers. I think he really liked them."

She waited while her sister got Nate and put him on the phone. Alex enjoyed listening to his tiny voice describing a bird he'd seen in the park. She couldn't make out everything he said, but she got the gist of it. Her grin brightened her face. "That sounds terrific, Nate!" she said. "Liz? Oh, I guess he was finished with me," she laughed. "Thanks. I needed that."

They spoke a few minutes longer, and then Alex hung up the phone and headed back inside.

* * *

Logan entered the room with a box of tissues and a glass of water. "Here, clean yourself up," he said in a brotherly way.

"Thanks," choked Flores. The man blew his nose loudly and used more tissues to wipe his tears.

"I'm Detective Logan. I've been looking into Mr. Bishop's… disappearance."

Bishop looked up trustingly with his red, puffy eyes. "You have?"

"Yeah. I was hoping to talk to him, but then he went missing."

"They killed him!" Flores cried again.

"Okay, okay, settle down. I want to talk to you about this, but I have a real hard time understanding people when they cry. Just try real hard for me, okay?"

Flores nodded, and tears fell silently from his eyes. "I saw Steven last Tuesday night. We-" he wrestled down another sob, "we went out dancing and then he took me home. I never thought I wouldn't see him again! If only I'd made him stay the night!"

"Okay, so where did he go when he left your place?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I called him the next morning and he didn't answer the phone. Not even texts! That's not like Steven. He always talks to me." He looked up at Logan. "He loves me."

Logan sat back in the chair and pretended to notice the buttons for the first time. "What's all this stuff?"

"Those are his buttons!" Flores cried, then took a few minutes to regain control of himself.

"How do you know they're his?"

"He always wears things like that. I told that other cop, the white haired one."

Mike nodded and made a note in his pad. "I know you want us to track him down, and I'm going to do that," he explained, "but I'm going to have to ask you about some other things first. You understand?"

Flores swallowed and nodded. "I already told him I was with Ron when he stabbed that man."

"I know you did. Let's talk about that. Ron said you put him up to it. Is that true?" Mike asked, putting a single button in front of Flores.

Flores stared at the button. "Y-Yes. I made him do it."

Mike looked him square in the eye. He was a big man, but all this crying made him seem like he wouldn't have it in him. "How?"

Flores seemed to understand what he was thinking. He stood up and started to unzip his jacket. Mike jumped up from the table on the defensive saying, "hold on, hold on…"

"I just want to show you something," said Flores. He opened his jacket and revealed his bare chest beneath. He was covered with scars from knife fights. "I used to… to fight… for money. In L.A. I used the money to come here, and get away from all that."

Mike sat back down, made a note in his book. He clicked his pencil lead out and then pushed it back in. "How'd you get wrapped up in that?"

"My older brother. We were in a gang. He told me I had to learn to fight to survive. He knew I was gay, and he was afraid I would be killed or abused if the others weren't scared of me."

Mike nodded. "So how'd you get Kitchum to stab Detective Goren?"

"I held a knife on _him._ He's never done any real fighting. He was scared to death." Flores sat back down and zipped his jacket. "I had to coach him beforehand, so he would know just how hard to push."

Mike's stomach turned, thinking about Bobby, and he sat back. "Why didn't you just do it yourself?" he asked.

Flores stared at him, but said nothing.

Mike shoved another button in front of him. Flores' eyes filled with tears. "Steven," he cried.

Logan thought he would have another meltdown and rubbed his eyes tiredly, glancing at the two-way mirror.

"Steven told me I shouldn't hurt people any more. He said I was too beautiful for that."

"So Bishop knew about it?"

"He said that man, Goren, was trying to arrest him. That he was going to accuse him of all sorts of bad things!"

"Like killing Lester Purcell?" Mike asked and pushed a button in front of Flores.

Flores cried and nodded. "I want a lawyer," he whispered.

* * *

Eames saw that Bobby was sitting up a little higher in his bed, and knocked on the door. He waved her in.

When she came to sit beside him, she could see that he'd been crying. "Bobby?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

"I called my Mom."

She nodded and sat in silence. He would talk about it if he wanted to.

It seemed like an eternity before Bobby spoke again. "She was really upset. Frank called her. He told her I was half dead. He told her they wouldn't let him see me. She said she tried to call the hospital, but she kept getting the numbers mixed up and her assistants couldn't help her because by the time she asked them, she forgot the name of the hospital."

His face reddened, but he didn't cry again. Eames placed her other hand on his and massaged his fingers. "Bobby, you didn't look very good when Frank showed up. It wasn't all a lie."

Bobby waited, wanting to know the rest.

"Deakins told him he could see you if he would just wait around until he was off his high. He couldn't do it. He started to come down, and he couldn't do it. He left."

Bobby closed his eyes, taking some comfort in the sensation of her hands on his skin.

She continued. "We couldn't let him see you while he was high. He got you so upset… we were protecting you, Bobby."

At last, Bobby nodded, his eyes still shut tight.

"Anyway, now she knows you're all right."

He nodded again and squeezed her hand with his.

* * *

The last thing Logan did before he went home that night was execute a search warrant at the residence of Steven Bishop. They turned up a few custom shirts, including one that was missing a navy blue button. They also found a fashion catalog from 1979.

He dialed the number on the card before he hit the sack. It was only her voice mail. "Hey Holly, this is Mike Logan, Major Case. I just wanted to say you did some good work on that car. Thanks." He hung up, disappointed.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Logan awoke the next morning to a ringing cell. "Logan," he said. "Meet you there." He noticed a text msg was waiting, and checked it. He smiled. It was from Holly Potts. "Drinks?" was all it said. "6:00," he texted back.

When Logan arrived at Flores' apartment, the team was already inside. He went straight to the closet, rummaged through the shirts, saw nothing of interest. He found the man's computer desk and rooted around in the drawers.

"Knife!" shouted one of the other officers. Logan looked up. It wasn't a dagger. He continued his searching.

* * *

"All right, if you're not going to tell me your secrets, you'll just have to hear mine," she teased Bobby.

"I already know all yours," he said, a Cheshire grin on his face.

"You wish," she said. He was sitting semi-upright in his hospital bed. She stood and walked around to the foot of his bed and grabbed the footboard. "Choose an era."

"College."

"College… okay,"

"No… high school. First guy you ever…"

"High school? Are you kidding me? Did you forget who my father is?"

"Okay, college then."

Eames reminisced. "He was about the same height as you… better looking, though." She winked at Bobby. "Phil. He was a music major."

"Music. Really."

"He played trumpet. Nice lips," she said.

"All right, I'll play," he said.

"First kiss."

"Samantha Delgado. 4th grade."

"Fourth Grade!" Eames squealed. "No way!"

"She was Frank's girlfriend," Bobby explained. "We were at the pool. He paid her with a slush from the concession stand."

Eames nodded. "Well, how was it?"

Bobby's expression soured. "Rushed." He looked up at his friend. "She was pretty thirsty."

The nurse interrupted them to check Bobby's vitals. Eames hung around until the young lady left the room. Bobby fished the bed remote up from between the railing bars. He lowered it a little, making him lie a little flatter.

He took a deep breath. "Eames, you ever play games when you were little?"

"Of course. Games, sports, cards, all of it."

"My mother used to play scrabble with me. Every week, we had a scrabble game."

"That explains how you got so smart," Eames remarked.

His eyes caught hers for a minute. "She was a good Mom… she tried to be."

* * *

Logan spent his lunch break revamping the diagram on the white board. He stopped every ten minutes or so to stare at the 1979 catalog. Finally, he sat down to go through it page by page. About 200 pages in, he found that a single page had been ripped out of it. He carried the open catalog back to his desk and set it down. Then he looked at the company name and punched the name in on his computer. He picked up his phone.

* * *

After another tedious walk with Bobby down the hall, Alex left him to wait for the pain pills to kick in. When it hurt that bad, he got angry. When he was angry, it was best to give him space. A lot of it.

She walked down the hall and out the front door. She caught a cab and took a ride to her place. Walking in, she was overwhelmed by the comfort of her home. She sank into an easy chair and closed her eyes.

She hadn't intended to fall asleep, but when she awoke, the room was dark. She snapped up in alarm. She felt her way to the light switch and flipped it on. She found the clock on the wall and frowned. Alex grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and looked up the number to the hospital.

"Room 257," she said. It rang several times, and she could tell he almost dropped the phone when he picked it up. "Hello?" he said unsteadily.

"Bobby, it's me. I'm really sorry. I went home and I fell asleep and I'm really sorry. I meant to come back."

She heard him clear his throat. "It's okay," he said. He didn't tell her how relieved he was that she hadn't intentionally walked away. He was convinced he had said something in his anger that had driven her away, and had been fretting about it for hours. "Eames," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Stay home tonight. Take it easy. I'll still be here in the morning."

"O-okay. Bobby, I'm really sorry." Other words were on the tip of her tongue, but she knew better than to speak them.

"It's okay," he repeated. "G'night, Eames."

"Good night, Bobby."

* * *

"Biggest pain in the ass I've ever seen," said Logan to Holly. They had been in the booth for an hour already, and he was on his third beer.

"That's why you're in Major Case," she said, and toasted him with her beer.

"So this page missing from the catalog, it was a picture of some woman. Nothing fancy, just a business suit. I can't figure how she fits in. The company said her name was Felicia Adams, that she worked for them for the one year, and they never saw her again."

"Nothing came back from her name?"

"Nothing."

"She probably moved out of state. Then she got married, got a new name."

Mike looked at her like she was a genius. "Yeah, I know which state to look in, too." He got up, handed her a wad of cash. "Have a couple more on me. Good night," he said, and stole a peck on the cheek before he hurried away.

* * *

In the morning, Alex got up early, showered, and put on fresh clothes. She stuck with jeans, but found a top that was soft and just stretchy enough to hold its shape no matter what she put it through. It conformed to the contours of her breasts and accentuated them, though that had nothing to do with her choice.

She paid another cab fare and stopped a block early to get some good coffee. She was sick of the hospital stuff. She thought about getting one for Bobby, but he said he wasn't up for it yesterday, so she bought him a plain sugar cookie. Then she walked the final block to the hospital.

Since he was still asleep when she arrived, she sat in the chair and sipped her coffee until she heard him stir. "Good morning," she said, and was greeted by a sweet, sleepy smile.

"Eames." He was pleased to see her. He stretched as best he could and his hand went in search of the remote for the bed.

She found it and handed it to him. He raised himself up slowly, and held his breath to hide the pain it caused. It still wasn't easy, all this moving around, but it was getting better.

"I brought you this," she said, holding out the little bakery bag with the cookie peeking out.

Bobby took it from her and thanked her. He broke a small piece off with his fingers and tasted it. "How was your evening?" he asked.

"Believe it or not, I did a lot of sleeping. I didn't know I was so tired."

He smiled. He was glad he asked her to stay home. It had done her some good.

"I sorted through some mail, washed the dishes, that kind of thing. What about you?" She asked.

He didn't want her to suspect his wild emotional ride yesterday. He joked, "Oh, you know, ran a marathon, did some yoga."

She stared at him, waiting for a real answer.

"The tv was my pal last night. And nurse Bryan. He lost two hands of poker to me. The spoils are in there," he motioned to the little drawer on the tray table.

She opened it, and found about 15 starlight mints. She took one and popped it in her mouth. "I see you cleaned him out," she quipped.

"He was too easy to read. Too many tells."

"Or maybe he just let you win, 'cuz you're sick."

His eyes were stricken. "Maybe you should try it once in a while," he prodded.

She gave him another cookie crumb to chew on, and her thumb seemed to linger at his lips a little longer than was necessary. Bobby noticed how her top fit perfectly to her breasts, and he felt a quick pang of desire.

"I feel just awful about last night," she said, her fingers still touching the skin of his cheek. Then a thought occurred to her. "Why didn't you call me?"

Bobby catalogued the familiar features of her sweet face, and felt yesterday's fears crawling back to the surface. "I don't have your number memorized," he lied. "Without my cell…"

Alex Eames, the detective, looked at him suspiciously. She saw clean through his lie. It was like she could read his mind. "I don't intend to leave you alone, Bobby. Especially while you're going through this."

Bobby broke the moment by announcing, "I've gotta… take a…" She helped him get up and walk carefully to the bathroom.

* * *

Deakins came into work that morning, to find Mike Logan hunched over a table in the conference room, his face planted squarely on top of his notepad. Deakins smacked him lightly on the shoulder with his newspaper, and Mike woke up. "Go get yourself a cup of coffee," he suggested, "and then you can explain this mess." Deakins gestured to the whiteboard, which now, in addition to drawings with names and arrows and circles, was decorated with small evidence bags and photographs. "Meet you back in here in ten," he said, and went to his own office.

Mike rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched his arms. He stood up and ambled out toward the bathroom.

In ten minutes, he was back in the conference room with a clean face and a fresh cup of coffee. He revamped it all with the Captain. "Bishop is the slut of the group," he said, pointing out his relationships with the first victim, Ben Flores, and Brini. "Still no clue who killed Bishop, except the missing catalog page. Here's what the page looked like in the catalog." He pulled down his copy of the photo and handed it to Deakins. "Her name is Felicia Morales, nee Adams. She lives in Chicago. Now she," he drew a long arrow from Felicia's name back to Purcell, "knew the first victim, was emailing him that she'd like to see him, catch up on old times. She mentioned Brini's name in one of the emails."

Deakins rubbed his temples. "So she killed Bishop?"

"No, she's alibied, been in Chicago for months, hasn't left town."

"She had him killed," Deakins suggested.

Logan shrugged.

"What about all these damn buttons?" Deakins asked.

"The blue one from Purcell's crime scene belonged to Bishop, so he was there. I have to talk to Flores again and see what I can get out of him. Bishop had a closet full of those custom shirts, so I don't doubt the ones that were mailed to Flores really were his. No sign of the missing lavender ones Goren was after."

"Maybe you should study up on buttons. Maybe this isn't a love triangle after all."

Mike nodded, and the captain left.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Eames let Bobby lean his weight against her as she walked him to the cab outside. The driver tossed her small duffel bag into the trunk as she helped Bobby get himself painfully into the back seat. She winced watching him. He was so tall, there was no way for him to sink into the useless springs of the taxi's back seat without jerking away at the stitches in his side. She told the driver the address and climbed in beside her friend. He had his eyes closed against the pain and his mouth was a thin white line. Alex knew better than to try to talk with him. She squeezed his hand in support and stared out at the city as they rode.

"Don't try to get out until I can help you," she commanded her partner. She paid the fare and put the strap of her bag over her shoulder before opening Goren's door. She braced her legs and held out her arms for him to hold on to as he literally climbed out of the back seat.

Bobby tried to do it without holding on to Alex, but he was weak and in too much pain. He grasped her forearms at last and she pulled him up to his feet. He leaned hard against her as they made their way into his building. It was too much work for either of them to do much talking. He managed to unlock the apartment door and they squeezed through the entrance, Eames kicking the door shut behind them. Without speaking, they both headed straight for the bedroom. She sat him on the side of the bed and dropped the bag at their feet. Bobby was already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She helped him take it off. No t-shirt was underneath, only the white bandages covering his wounds.

His lips were pressed together in pain and he looked as though he was holding his breath. He started to lean to one side, but she put a hand on his arm and steadied him. "Not yet," she said. "Let me get your meds first."

Bobby nodded and remained upright. She rooted through the bag and pulled out a medicine container. She shook out a pill and handed it to him. Then she hurried to the kitchen and brought him a glass of water.

Bobby eagerly took the pain pill and with much effort, lay down on his bed. He unfastened his pants but was unable to take them off. Eames did it for him without a word, saving him any embarrassment. By the time she got the sheet over him, he was drifting into sleep.

Exhaustion hit her suddenly like a tidal wave. She took a step back, and felt for the first time how much it took out of her to support him on the long walk from the cab. Her muscles were almost in spasm. Seeing that he was resting comfortably, she found a bottle of wine in the kitchen and poured herself a coffee cup full.

As a cop, Alex felt she'd been neglecting her duty the last two weeks. As a friend, however, she felt she was doing right by Bobby. He needed her right now, and she needed to be there for him. She retrieved the bag from the floor and began emptying the contents, organizing as she went. Extra bandages, more pills, copies of the discharge paperwork… Bobby would have to file that when he was well enough. She found some dirty socks and tossed them in his hamper. Eames pulled her cell out of her purse. A new text was there from Logan. "Home OK?" was all it said.

She smiled and texted him back. Logan was a good friend, too, but would be out of his element nursing Bobby. At least she knew who to call if she needed a break. After she finished the wine, she went into Bobby's dimly lit bedroom and decided to make herself at hom. She found a navy blue t-shirt in his dresser and went to the bathroom to freshen up and change. Bobby's big & tall shirt made for a nightgown on her petite figure. She felt comfortable in it, too, just because it was his.

She crawled into bed beside her friend, laid one hand over his forearm, and was fast asleep in minutes.

Bobby's need to relieve himself woke him. He heard breathing next to him, and was surprised to see his partner lying beside him. Moving slightly, the pain served as a reminder of what he'd been going through, and explained her presence. It was a struggle, but he found a way to get himself up and onto his feet. His side throbbed mercilessly, but he gritted his teeth and did what he needed to do. Returning to the bed, he saw the pills and the glass of water on his bedside table. Bobby fished out the pain pills, two this time, and reached out for the half-full glass of water. His fumbling hands knocked it over.

"Shit!" he said gruffly.

"Are you all right?!" came Eames' alarmed voice.

"Yeah, sorry… I knocked it over," he said. She was already getting something to clean it up. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Bobby." She picked up the glass, filled it, and handed it to him. He swallowed the pills and apologized again. "It's okay, really. I've already cleaned it up," she said. She put her hand on his cheek. "Next time, just ask me."

His heart was overwhelmed with emotion. "Thanks, Eames. For… all of this."

"Get some rest, Bobby. I'm right here if you need anything." She helped him lie on his good side and then climbed into bed, tucking them both in. The two pain pills did their work, and he did not awaken again until late in the morning.

* * *

Holly scrubbed her hands for a third time with her well-used bottle of Gojo. It was funny. She hadn't cared this much how she looked in a long time. At last, her hands and fingernails were clean. She went to her room and put on a maroon dress that seemed made for her figure. She ran a comb through her hair and put a barrette in on one side. Satisfied, she grabbed her purse and walked out the door.

Mike Logan had agreed to meet her for a late dinner. In spite of his obsession with his case, he was on time. There was a real warmth in his smile when he saw her. "Hi, Holly," he said quietly.

She grinned back and said hello as he walked her into the restaurant. It was an Italian place, not too cheap, but not too fancy. The atmosphere was warm and intimate. Each booth was illuminated by a candle lamp on the wall beside the table. There were real paintings of flowers on the wall, rather than cheesy posters.

"Great food here," he said.

"I like it," she said, "It's nice."

He waited until she was situated on her side of the booth and then slid in across from her. "You look terrific, Holly."

"Thanks," she smiled. "You too." He did look good. Instead of his worn suit, he was in dress slacks and a dark blue silk shirt. She couldn't help but notice his hazel eyes. "How's the case coming?"

He shook his head. "Not doing that tonight. You deserve better."

It was a nice sentiment, but she wasn't sure what they might talk about if they couldn't talk about work. She smiled and looked at the menu the waitress had just dropped off. He didn't look at his. He just watched her reading until the waitress interrupted him by bringing their waters. Mike ordered a bottle of wine for them to share. They put in their food orders, and were left alone. Holly sipped her water, unsure of what to say.

"So, what's your story?" He asked. "How'd you end up at CSU?"

She smiled. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a grease monkey. My Dad owned a garage, and my 4 brothers and me all worked there as kids. That's all I do at CSU, stuff involving cars and bikes. We don't usually specialize like that… but they made an exception for me. I thought I wanted to be a cop, but I couldn't get away from working on cars." She tilted her head slightly and added, "I guess I found the best of both worlds." Then she leaned forward. "What about you?"

"I don't like bad guys." The wine arrived, and he didn't reveal any more. He took the bottle from the waitress and poured them both a glass. "What about your spare time?" he asked. "What do you do for fun?"

"I'm restoring a 1937 Plymouth Coupe. It's awesome!" She dug out her cell phone. "I'll show you pictures." She found the pictures and turned her phone over to him. It was a beautiful car. Still not painted, patches of bondo showing here and there, but definitely a classy car."

"I got it from this old man up in the 'gunks. It was sitting in his yard for about 20 years, a lot of rust. It's coming along, though!"

"That's really sharp," he said, and handed her phone back. "How come you didn't just stay with the family business?" he asked.

"My brother Charlie took it over. I love Charlie, but we really don't work well together. We're too much alike."

* * *

Goren's bed was empty, but he could hear her moving around in the kitchen. As he pushed himself upright, he had a flashback of her wearing his t-shirt. He stood and shuffled to the bathroom, noticing the rumpled shirt at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, good, you're awake," she said. The flushing of the toilet had summoned her back into the bedroom. "You need to take your antibiotic. And you should eat something with it. What do you want?"

Bobby stood in his shorts and gaped at her. "Uhm, I dunno, uhm…"

"If you're really hungry I'll cook you something. Otherwise I can just make some toast."

Bobby's wits came back to him. "Toast. With honey. That should be fine."

"Okay, and I need to change that dressing on your side, too." She headed out toward the kitchen.

Goren glanced around his room. He couldn't stay in his boxers all day. He thought about what was in his dresser. Sweats would be too tight. Jeans or even dress pants would be hard to take off at the end of the day. He rummaged around and came up with a pair of khaki shorts. He managed to step into them without help and smiled at his achievement. To his surprise, the pants were loose: even better. He smiled again at his choice and made his way to the kitchen. He eased himself into a chair with a grimace.

Eames set the toast before him, along with a pill bottle. "Drink?" she inquired cheerfully.

"Uhm, just water," he said quietly. He didn't feel he could trust his digestive system with coffee just yet.

"You're pretty low on groceries. I should probably go out and shop for you," commented Eames, as she joined him at the table with a cup of coffee.

Bobby noticed the cleanliness of the kitchen, the trash can full of debris from cleaning the refrigerator. He didn't comment. He wasn't sure what to make of her attention, but he did feel slightly annoyed by it. Instead he took his antibiotics, followed by a messy bite of toast.

Eames got him a wet washcloth for the honey. He turned away from her angrily, a little too quickly, and felt it tug his stitches. "Stop that!" he said.

"Stop what?!" she asked, shocked.

He stammered, waving his hands this way and that, pointing out places in the apartment where she'd been of help to him. "The… the mothering."

"Jeez, Bobby, last night you were thanking me for it."

He continued to stammer. "It's… I… you… I'm not an invalid!" he cried.

"Well, you're far from a hundred percent, let me tell you," she said, rubbing the soreness in her arms from helping him into the building.

Bobby frowned, staring at the floor tiles. After a few moments, he sighed. "I… I'm just tired, okay? I'm tired of… of being sick." He picked up the washcloth and used it to wipe the honey from his hands and from the table.

Eames waited, not wanting to provoke him further. He pushed his plate of half-eaten toast away and got up with care. "I need your help… with the… uh… bandage," he said, unable to look her in the eye.

She nodded and followed him back to the bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

_Bobby sighed. "I… I'm just tired, okay? I'm tired of… of being sick." _

Chapter 10

That night, Eames slept beside him again, and when he woke in the night, he found himself studying her features while she slept. Her hair was getting longer, almost to the middle of her back. Some stray hair had crossed her cheek. He hesitated, but reached out and brushed it back. She stirred and turned over onto her back. He remained motionless until she was sound asleep again. Then Bobby smiled as he studied her from this new perspective. His t-shirt had ridden up her legs as she turned in her sleep, and he could make out the subtle flower pattern on her panties. Her legs were as toned as her arms, and he admired their sleek lines as he refrained from touching her.

His gaze moved upward, and he saw the hint of her breasts under the fabric of his shirt. Gravity had spread them apart, widened them. He longed to touch, to study those beautiful lines with his fingertips.

Abruptly, he looked away from her. These thoughts… they would change everything about their relationship. He sighed. She was in his bed. Chaste as it was, their relationship had already changed. Something was eating away at him, and he couldn't, wouldn't put a name to it.

Damn Kitchum! If only he hadn't used that knife…

Then again, Alex wouldn't be here in his bed if Bobby hadn't needed her help…

She moved, and her relaxed hand rested on his pillow, beside his face. Impulsively, he nuzzled it, taking in her scent, and kissed her palm, long and slow. His brain registered what he had just done, and he turned his body away from her, terrified.

"Bobby, you okay?" she asked sleepily.

He couldn't answer immediately. The pain in his side had taken his breath away. He had to turn back toward her; he couldn't rest his weight on his wound any longer. He found himself staring into her concerned eyes. "Uhm, yeah, I'm okay," he said quietly. Her gaze told him she wasn't convinced. He fought off the impulse to kiss her sweet face; he looked away.

"Can't sleep?" She asked. "I can get your pain meds."

"No," he answered. "I'm trying not to take them… unless it's really bad."

She nodded in understanding and laid back down beside him.

He was relieved not to have the temptations that came when he looked in her eyes. "Eames," he asked.

"Uh huh?" She replied.

Suddenly he felt more nervous than he ever had in his life. He was rock-hard in his boxers and hoped she hadn't noticed. "There's something I've been wanting to do," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "Only I don't want to if you don't want to…"

At last, she caught the gist of what he was saying. She leaned up on one elbow, looking at him as if for the first time. Involuntarily, the fingers of his left hand twined in hers. Bobby closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of their touch; waiting for her answer. Alex's eyes traced along the outline of his face: his strong jawline, shadowed by whiskers, his soft brow, the smidge of gray in his hair. She stared at his curls, and noticed the gray wasn't just at his temples, it was infused through his hair, softening the brown… and very sexy.

She felt a twitch, but her head was still calling the shots. "Bobby, I don' t know," she said. "It would change everything."

Still with his eyes shut, he nodded in resignation. He felt her warm lips on his cheek. "But it's not that I don't _want_ to," she added. His eyes flew open, and as their eyes locked, he cupped her face in his free hand. His hands were so large, her whole head rested in that one hand. He pulled her gently toward him, and their lips met.

Alex didn't resist. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Their first kiss rolled tenderly into a second and a third. With his wound, they both knew it would be foolish to go any farther. At last, she laid down, her head against the curly gray hairs of his chest. She breathed him in, and was content. Bobby stroked her hair, and let himself relax into sleep.

* * *

A pounding on the door awoke them in the morning. "Rise and shine, boys and girls," teased Mike Logan from the hallway. Eames pulled on her jeans and went to answer the door, while Bobby tried to straighten the sheets around him.

Eames opened the door, and Mike entered, carrying two bags of groceries. Seeing Eames in Bobby's long t-shirt, and obviously with no bra, he grinned. "How's the camping going?" he asked with a wink.

"Don't start, Logan," Alex warned. She took one bag of groceries from him and they both went to the kitchen and set them on the table. While Alex put things away, Mike wandered into the bedroom.

"Hey, Pal," he said to Bobby. "You're looking pretty good. When you comin' back to work?" He asked with another wink.

"I don't need to go in. I can out-investigate you without leaving my bed," Goren snarked back. They both chuckled. Bobby slowly worked his way upright, and without a word, Mike helped him to his feet. "Be right back," Goren said, feeling nature's call.

Mike went back into the small kitchen. Eames was still putting groceries away. He helped her empty the second bag, but just put the items on the table and busied himself folding the brown paper sacks. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Good," she said. "Really good. He's getting around more by himself. I had my doubts about them releasing him so soon, but it really seems to have helped him to be home."

Mike nodded.

"Coffee?" she asked and he consented. She brewed a fresh pot and poured them both a cup. Bobby emerged, in his slightly too large summer shorts. Mike moved to the furthermost chair and Bobby sat down. Eames gave Bobby an inquiring look, coffee pot in hand.  
"I'll try a little coffee, sure," Goren said. He sounded happy.

Eames slid the coffee to him, along with his bottle of antibiotics, and sat down beside him. "How's the case?"

"I can't begin to tell you. Every time we think we've got it figured out, some new name pops into the picture." He looked to Goren reassuringly. "We've got all the right players, it's just trying to figure each one's motive that's making us loopy."

"Show me," said Goren, taking his pills.

"Bobby," Alex protested, concerned that he not get involved in the case again. He threw her a dark look and she conceded.

"I can sit at home and put the pieces together," he explained. "It'll be the same as working a jigsaw puzzle."

"Yeah, but this puzzle can cut _you_ to pieces," she said quietly. She handed him a banana.

Mike looked back and forth between the partners. Something had changed between them.

Bobby looked into Alex's eyes. "It's all right," said his quietest voice.

She nodded and drank down her coffee.

"Sure," Mike consented to Bobby. "Uh, I'll go in and pack it all up for you."

"No, wait a while," Eames said. She glanced down quickly at her attire. "I really need to run by my place… check on things."

Mike nodded. "So I'll hang around a while," he said. I think there's a race on this morning," he suggested. Goren grinned.

Mike helped himself to the couch and flipped on the tv, stopping when he found a NASCAR race. Logan's phone rang. "Logan," he said. "Yeah, I'm with Bobby now." He handed the phone to Goren. "It's for you."

Bobby put the phone to his ear. "Hello? Oh, hi Captain."

Before Eames left, she helped Bobby change his bandage.

Goren settled into his recliner and was a little surprised when he couldn't get the footrest up. Without a word, Logan reached out and pulled it higher.

"Thanks," said Bobby. Mike shrugged off his words and started talking about the cars.

Eames gave a shout goodbye and headed out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

When Alex returned, she found Mike in the living room alone. Logan explained, "He was hurting pretty bad, so he took a pain pill and went to bed." As she dropped her overnight bag on the empty couch, Mike asked, "You all right, Eames?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just can't be easy, playing nurse all the time."

"It's not easy… but it's okay." Her mind ran through the anger of the yesterday morning and the tenderness of last night. "I'm okay, Mike. Really."

"Well, I'm gonna go pick up that stuff from the office. I'm just a phone call away if you need me." He wanted to pat her arm, or kiss her cheek, or perform some other brotherly gesture. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "See ya later, Eames."

She followed him to the door and locked it after he left. Then Alex carried her duffel bag into the bedroom. He was half turned to one side, and had the pillow over his head to block out the light creeping in the window. She set her bag gently to the side and sat on the bed next to him. She replayed last night's kisses in her mind and felt an uncertainty gripping her heart.

All of the "what if's" snuck up on her. What if they couldn't work together any longer? What if they couldn't hide their relationship from their colleagues? What if it just plain didn't work? Bobby and Eames both had their fair share of baggage. Maybe they'd only done so well as partners because they'd managed to keep some things personal. Her heart had cast its vote already, and though the rationalizations all made sense, she knew what she really wanted. She really needed to know what Bobby wanted.

Eames grabbed her laptop from her duffel and took it into the living room. She checked her email and found that Logan had been emailing her constant updates on the case for the last two weeks. She read the last one over again. "Manhattan Custom Men's Wear says Steven Bishop never chose from their selection of buttons. He always brought his in personally from somewhere else. Sometimes they were hand crafted, sometimes they were vintage items. Buttons can range from $5 to $25 a piece. A shirt has up to 12 buttons including cuffs and collar."

Eames opened the internet and started typing. She found several notions shops in Chicago and used her cell phone to dial each one. Alex used the same script every time: introduction, asked if Bishop was a customer, asked for other shops where he might have purchased his buttons. Each call resulted in at least a half a page of notes.

After two hours, she decided to check on Bobby. It was about time for lunch. Entering the bedroom, she saw he was still sleeping, but was now turned across the bed with his feet hanging off the side. She grinned at the sight of him. His neck was tipped sideways, else his head would be hanging off the side of the bed as well.

She walked around and dipped her fingers into his curls. "Bobby?"

He stretched as best he could and rubbed his eyes. Then he smiled at her.

"It's lunchtime. What would you like?"

Bobby struggled to get up, and she gave him a hand. "Anything is fine," he said. He made his way to the bathroom while she went to cook something for lunch.

When he emerged, he was clean-shaven, had brushed his teeth and his hair, and looked like a new man. He even had on a casual button down shirt.

"Well," she said with a smile, "you look handsome."

Bobby grinned and tilted his head with a shrug.

"It's noodles and broth for lunch. We'll pretend it's something better," she said, gesturing to the pans on the stove.

The bell rang, and Eames went to get it. Through the peephole, she saw it was Mike. She opened the door for him and he carried two boxes inside. He set them on the table, side by side. "There's more in evidence, but this should be enough to get you started," he explained. He pulled something out of his pocket. "And speaking of evidence, I got this back for you." He handed Goren his now clean and freshly charged cell phone.

Bobby smiled. "Thanks. My mother's probably worried." He opened it and looked at the missed calls. He got to his feet and took his cell phone with him. "I'm going to…" he said, gesturing to the bedroom.

With Eames' approval, Bobby left. "Does that guy ever finish a sentence?" Mike chuckled.

Smiling, Eames said, "Does he really need to?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

"Mike, thanks for all the emails. I feel like I'm in the loop again."

"No worries. I knew you'd get around to it when you could." She updated him on her morning's work researching notion shops.

"Staying for lunch?" she asked.

"No," he said, then "do you need me to?"

She shook her head.

He was relieved. "I have a date tonight… got some… things to do."

She smiled at Logan. "Thanks for your help."

Mike pointed in Goren's direction. "Tell him goodbye for me." He went out.

Eames dished out the soup and got water for them both to drink. When he came back, she could see he was upset. She didn't ask, just frowned a little in sympathy.

"She's… uhm… not doing very well today," was all he said. He picked up a bizarre-looking noodle with his spoon and examined it; threw her a questioning look.

"Don't ask me, Logan did the shopping," she said and they both chuckled.

He didn't even finish eating before he was organizing his binder and starting to root through the boxes.

"I don't want to interrupt," she said, "but you do have a doctor appointment this afternoon. We should probably head out pretty soon."

Bobby appreciated the reminder. He had no idea what day it was or when anything was supposed to happen anymore.

"It's a little cold for shorts," she prompted.

"Oh, uh, okay," he said, and went back to his room.

* * *

They sat together on the armed chairs in the waiting room. Bobby's frame was so big he looked like he was sitting in a child's chair. He was uncomfortable, but had turned a little to ease the pain.

It suddenly struck Eames that the last time they'd sat together in a waiting room like this had been… just after she'd had Nate. Emotion overwhelmed her and she walked to the other side of the room to get water in a paper cup from the dispenser.

That had been a very hard time for her. She loved her sister, and was happy to be able to carry her child for her, but she had been completely unprepared for the intensity of loss she felt handing him over after nurturing him inside her body. She'd fought depression for at least a month, and Bobby… he knew it. He had been there when she needed him, though she didn't realize it at the time. She sipped down the water and tossed the little cup in the wastebasket. His eyes followed her all the way back to the seat beside him. He held his head sideways and looked at her, silently questioning.

She didn't want to say anything, but knew she had to. "I was just remembering the last time you and I did this," she said.

The reference clicked with him immediately. He straightened his head up and offered her a hand, which she didn't take. He put his hand in his lap and watched her from his peripheral vision.

"Robert," the nurse called from the doorway.

Eames helped him stand. He started to walk towards the door, but when he realized she wasn't beside him, he turned to her. "Coming?" he asked.

She moved to her position as his crutch and walked with him into the exam room.

* * *

Logan put in two hours at the office, revamping the white board diagram and sifting through files recovered from Bishop's apartment. Even though he bought hundreds of dollars worth of buttons at a time, it appeared that the man kept no receipts for them. Just as he was about to close the file folder and give up for the day, something caught his eye. He pulled out a warranty document for a dagger.

This prompted him to review the white board again. He erased the line that indicated Flores killed Purcell and drew one from Bishop to Purcell. Then he amended it again, and had Flores _and_ Bishop killing Purcell.

* * *

"So, things are looking very good, Mr. Goren. You're coming along just fine. I wouldn't worry too much about possible addiction with the pain medicine. It sounds like you're doing just fine there." The doctor shook Bobby's hand, and then Alex's. "I'll send in my assistant to take those stitches out. The internal ones should dissolve within another week or so."

As the doctor walked out, Bobby felt Alex's hand on his shoulder. She offered him an encouraging smile. He was a little disappointed about the stitches. He'd much rather take them out himself. Looking at Alex, he imagined she'd think him pretty weird if she knew that.

The PA came in and situated Bobby for removal of the stitches. Alex sat on a nearby chair and averted her eyes. It didn't take long, and then the young woman said she'd lead them out of the exam room.

They stopped at the desk and took care of the paperwork, then Bobby and Alex walked slowly down the hall and out of the building.

* * *

It was almost 6:00 when Mike drove up to Holly's brother's house in Queens. He was in jeans and a t-shirt, as instructed. Her brother Danny answered the door. "You must be Mike," he said, shaking his hand. "Holly's here, she's already out in the garage." He led Mike past a houseful of loud and boisterous children and through the kitchen door into the garage. Holly was welding and both men looked away quickly.

She finished her line and turned off the welder, then pushed the mask up off of her face.

"Holly, your friend's here," called Danny.

Happily, she removed the welding mask completely and walked over to the door. She took Logan by the hand. "Come see what I've done," she said excitedly.

He followed her to the back end of the car, noting with pleasure her feminine shape. Her hair was mussed and sweaty, but cute, with loose curls. Her tank top revealed muscular shoulders and arms.

She pointed out where she had repaired the metal and then reminded him of the pictures he'd seen. "It's coming along, huh?" she asked and he grinned in agreement.

"Now, I have a job for you," she said, handing him a wrench. She had him crawl under the car with her and she showed him where she would be expecting him to work.

Mike couldn't believe how much fun he was having. This was the weirdest date he'd ever been on.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Bobby was disappointed. He just didn't seem to have the stamina to stay at the table, pouring through the research, the evidence, like he wanted to. He rubbed his eyes wearily and closed his binder. At least he hadn't had another pain pill today. That was progress. He got up stiffly and walked toward the bedroom.

"Turning in?" called Eames from the couch, where she was still reading on her laptop.

"Yeah."

She followed him to the bedroom, and helped him pull his slacks off. While he got settled in bed, she went to the bathroom and changed. She'd brought a nightgown from home, a white-on-white number that was very comfortable. The front scooped down over her breasts, and the sleeves were almost non-existent. She wasn't really tired yet, but couldn't resist the urge to go lie down with Bobby. She crawled into bed beside him.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Hmmm?" He sounded half-asleep already.

"The waiting room today. I guess I just realized how much you helped me when…"

"Eames," he said quietly, then instead of continuing, he held her chin in his fingers, stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb.

The kiss just happened. It was a continuation of the night before, she supposed, only this time she had to stop it. She had to talk to Bobby, to figure it all out.

"Bobby," she said as she pulled away. "What are we going to do?"

He shrugged off her question and leaned in to kiss her again, but she didn't let him. Eames. Analytical, rational, steady-headed Eames. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"This!" She said in frustration. "What if they find out?"

His hand was still on her jawbone. "They won't care."

She shook her head and turned, forcing his hand to fall away from her face. "Some might," she said. She knew the Major Case detectives. Most would have their backs, but Alex knew there were some who just didn't like Bobby.

He reached for her fingers. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"What if we can't work together?"

"It'll be better," he said. "I'll know your next move almost before you do."

Eames stared at the textured grooves in the ceiling. Bobby. Unpredictable, emotional, rash… She propped up on one arm. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked.

She read the answer in his eyes before he breathed the word. His lips found hers, and his hands found her breasts and her hands found his hips and all time seemed to stop.


	13. Chapter 12 and a half

**A/N This chapter is rated M and contains explicit sex. Feel free to skip it if you don't care for that kind of thing or if you'd rather imagine it yourself.**

Chapter 12 ½

_His lips found hers, and his hands found her breasts, and her hands found his hips and all time seemed to stop._

When the kiss finally broke, Bobby's lips were tingling. He and Eames were nose to nose. He could feel her breath against his skin. Bobby's hands were full of her soft round breasts. He lost himself in her eyes as his fingers slipped over, around, and back onto her pert nipples. She bent down, and her forehead rested against his.

"We should be careful," she breathed, not wanting to hurt him.

He brought one finger across her lips and his eyes seemed to convey a warning. _Let me handle that. I know my own limits._

Slowly, she eased her lips back down to his. Her tongue explored him hungrily, and he felt one of her hands brush across his aching cock. He gasped, and she paused, waiting for him to continue.

"Oh, Alex," he whispered, and used his fingers to guide her hand back to soothe his ache.

He kissed her neck as her hand roamed along his huge shaft, over his warm balls, and back onto his cock again. He wanted her, but he wanted to give pleasure to her, too. He thrust against her hand, and winced in pain.

They both sat motionless a moment, then without a word, Bobby resumed petting her. His hands found the hem of her nightgown and slowly worked it upward, until he could see the bare flesh of her torso. She took it off and tossed it to the floor.

As she stretched out beside him, his fingers touched the dampening crotch of her panties. She took in a ragged breath, and he could see her teeth bared in pleasure. Bobby stroked her gently, feeling her panting breath against his ear. He could smell her now. The raw, true scent of Alex Eames was better than any perfume.

He yanked at the top of her underwear, and she helped him by wriggling out of it hurriedly. They found themselves at another stopping point.

Her naked body sent off waves of heat next to him. They stared into each others' eyes until their lips met again.

Alex moved up and away from him, and he watched her position herself between his legs. She slowly and surely pulled his boxers down and over his feet. She was careful not to touch his sore side as she deliberately placed her hands on either side of him on the mattress.

Cold air hissed between his teeth as he felt her mouth on him for the first time. He gasped in ecstasy, and she paused her work. He reached down his hands and pressed gently against her head.

She ignored the pressure of his hands and hovered at his tip, sucking and kissing only his head. He let his hands loose and instead gripped the pillow behind his head, enjoying every sweet second. His skin was starting to glow red from the bottom up. He watched her as she licked him up and down, her eyes closed. This was a different woman than he'd ever seen, and he was thrilled by her.

He moaned his pleasure as her mouth finally sank over him fully. His hips moved against her, and he ignored the nagging pain in his side. This felt too good to stop for anything.

Abruptly, she released him, and he felt the cold air like ice against him, making him harder. Her hands roamed gently while she moved her body alongside his again. Bobby reached out his left hand and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard, and his fingers entered her wet pussy. She moved against his fingers, and he pushed them deeper in with each motion. Her breath came harder and with more and more speed.

He turned to push his body against hers, but the pain momentarily blinded him. They stopped cold once more. Instead, Bobby slowly used his left hand to guide her into position overtop him.

"Wait," she gasped, and then asked, "Condom?"

Bobby reached for the nightstand and fumbled for the handle of the drawer. She took over for him, found one, and ripped it open. He felt her hands rolling the thin film overtop him. She moved overtop him again, not touching him, but letting their body heat radiate between them. His fingers brushed against her chest, as his eyes studied her with longing.

At last, her groin touched his. He pushed up with desire, but she slipped away. She was teasing him. She touched him again, and ground against him for a moment, then lifted herself up again.

The third time, he cried out in frustration, "Oh!"

She planted herself on him.

Slowly, she moved her body downward, feeling him deeper and deeper inside. Then she sat motionless until he couldn't stand it and started grinding against her.

She began to move with him, long and slow. Each time his side told him he made a wrong move, they froze until Bobby started the motions again. Alex's back arched and he felt her dripping against him as he heaved himself into her a few final times. They both cried out in pleasure when he came.

She sat still a moment, then carefully lay down over him, avoiding his injured side. Her mouth found his, and his fingers combed through her unruly hair. At last she disengaged from him and lay with her head on his shoulder. Neither of them could speak.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Deakins found Logan already at it when he arrived at 1PP. "Making some headway?" he asked.

Logan leaned forward. "Yeah. I think I finally am." He reorganized the papers in front of him on the desk. "Purcell and Bishop had a thing going on for… about 5 years now. Bishop and Flores, for at least a year." He looked up at the Captain. "You saw Flores. He was a mess. He loved the guy. I think when Bishop decided to end it with Purcell, he got Flores to help him. Remember the body was spread eagle, ligature marks on the wrists. Sounds like kinky sex to me. And then Bishop and Flores took it to the next extreme."

Deakins was still. "Okay, so how you gonna prove it?"

Mike slapped down a paper in aggravation. "It's this Brini character, I just know it. I gotta find her."

* * *

Bobby could barely move when he awoke in the morning. Alex was already in the kitchen, making coffee. Bobby lay still, alarmed by what his body was telling him. He tried to sit up, but just couldn't do it.

"Eames," he called. Then, a little more urgently, "Alex!"

She came right away. "Bobby?!"

"I… need some…" he tried to sit up again and yelped in pain. "I need help," he blurted.

"Oh, no," she said, realizing last night had done him in. She sat down beside him and pulled him upright. He leaned against her, breathing hard, waiting for the protests of his body to subside.

She held him tightly, wishing there was something she could do. "You want your pills?"

"Uh… yeah," he said pitifully. She extracted two from the bottle and handed them to him. She brought him water to wash them down. His hands gripped her desperately as she helped him with his morning business.

Alex had tears in her eyes when she finally got him prone in the bed. "I'm so sorry, Bobby, I never expected-"

He was hurting, but he managed to keep his cool. "Alex," he whispered, "don't." He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. Then he tightened his lips into a thin white line and stiffened, waiting for the pills to kick in.

Bobby's pills knocked him out again, and Alex spent the whole morning worrying that their night of passion might have torn something loose inside him. She checked on him often, and he seemed all right.

She continued to research the notion shops as a way of distracting herself. "Simple Notions," she read. "Specializing in handmade and vintage buttons. Elgin, Illinois." She grabbed her phone and dialed the number. A voice on the other end said, "Simple Notions, this is Brini, how may I help you?" Eames sat up straighter. She introduced herself. "Has your company done business with a man by the name of Steven Bishop?" she asked.

The ring of familiarity came through the voice on the other end.

"We've been looking for Mr. Bishop and we were hoping you could help us locate him," she said. The voice on the other end was shocked that he was missing. "May I ask your full name?" Alex asked. She wrote. "Miss Davis, when was the last time you saw Mr. Bishop?" She wrote again. "Thank you," she paused, listening, "certainly we'll let you know when we find him." She hung up the phone and sat staring at her notes. Then she called Logan and gave him the news.

"No, I can't leave him. He's having a… bad day," she said. "Okay, Mike. Keep me posted."

She hung up the phone and went to check on Bobby for the hundredth time. He heard her come in and opened his eyes. "How you feeling?" she asked softly as she sat on the bed beside him.

He smiled, and drew her in for a kiss. "Help me up?" he asked.

She helped him up and out to the recliner in the living room. She put his feet up and brought him a tray with some noodle soup. He made an effort to eat, but only finished half the bowl. She watched as he drank most of his water.

"Well?" she asked. He had to know what she was worried about.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just a little sore."

"You're sure…"

"I'm fine, Alex." He squeezed her hand. She removed the lunch tray and came in to sit near him on the couch.

"Good news," Alex announced. "I found Brini. She's in Elgin, Illinois, just outside Chicago. Mike's got the Illinois police working some things for us now."

Alex explained that Brini owns the notion shop where Bishop was getting his buttons. Goren listened carefully. "Iridescent lavender?" he asked.

"I didn't ask about that yet."

* * *

Logan stared at the computer for several minutes without even blinking. Then he jotted down some notes, and stood. He stretched and muttered to himself. "I gotta get something to eat."

As he walked to the elevator, he ran over the white board diagram in his mind. On the elevator, two other detectives were having a loud discussion about family politics.

"I tell you what, if I find out that boy is having his way with her, I'll…" one cop said.

The other one agreed wholeheartedly with his friend. "I'm right there with you," he said.

The first cop looked at Logan. "Daughters," he said with a huff. "They're a lot more work than sons!"

Mike smiled and nodded his agreement, but when the elevator stopped, he didn't get off. In his mind, something had just clicked.

* * *

They were watching a movie when Bobby dozed off in the recliner. Alex let him sleep; it was probably what he needed. She finished the movie and checked her phone. No new messages. "I guess Logan isn't getting very far," she muttered to herself. It was a tough call, when to admit a case was going nowhere and let it be closed. She wasn't ready to give up on this one yet, and she knew Logan wasn't, but she was sure Deakins was getting heat about it. They had solid evidence on Kitchum and Flores for Bobby's stabbing, but for the original victim, Mr. Purcell, they had only theories. The probable murder of Bishop was going nowhere, as well. Unless Brini Davis could shed some light. The Illinois cops would have to sort that out.

She went in the kitchen and dialed her sister. "Hi Liz," she said. "I'm fine. I just wanted to call, see what's going on."

Eames listened while her sister rattled off the highlights of the last few days. "Me? Oh, uhm, nothing new, really…" Her sister could always read her like a book. Alex refused to fill her in, at least not like this, over the phone. "Well, Bobby was in a lot of pain today, so it's been kind of rough… I know you do. I'll tell him. Give him a kiss for me, okay?" She said goodbye and hung up. What was she supposed to tell her? That she and Bobby had finally given in to their feelings for each other, and she'd almost killed him? Alex felt awful about the whole thing.

She heard something thump in the living room and hurried in to see what was wrong. Bobby was awake, and had thrown a pillow across the room. It hit a plant stand and knocked it over.

"Plant say something you didn't like?" she snarked.

He shook his head. "I need to get to bed," he said quietly. She helped him without another word. Once he was prone, he asked her to stay with him.

"I don't regret it," he said simply.

"What?"

"You… you've been moping around all day, blaming yourself… for this… for me…"

Of course he was right.

"I don't regret it, Alex. It was amazing… and beautiful. _You_ were amazing and beautiful." She heard him, and felt his kindness, but couldn't shake her feelings of guilt. He nudged her arm. "Now's when you're supposed to tell me how terrific I was," he suggested with a grin.

She smiled, and almost laughed. Bobby. She leaned down and kissed his lips softly. "Only kissing until you're all healed up," she said.

"Agreed," he replied.

* * *

Before he went home, Logan dialed Holly's number. After the third ring, she finally picked up. "Hey," he said, "I was wondering if we could get a drink or something."

"Oh, Mike, I'm sorry," she said, setting her safety goggles back atop her head. "It's a lousy night for it. The 'gangstas' had a showdown and I'm gonna be here all night picking bullets out of cars. Rain check?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," he said. "I understand. Maybe Sunday." She agreed and he clicked off the phone.

His favorite bar was a close walk from home. He paused at the front door, having seen Gretchen through the window. Mike thought of Gretchen, and then he thought of Holly. He turned and headed for home.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Logan was pounding on the door by 7 a.m. Eames groaned and got up to go answer it, throwing Bobby's huge robe over her shoulders as she went. She peeked and saw it was Logan, then unlocked the door.

"Brought breakfast," he said. He carried in a doughnut box, topped with a coffee carrier that had 3 large coffees in it. "Big guy up?" he asked. Under his handful of items, he had a carved wooden cane.

Eames yawned and shook her head. "And neither was I," she said through her yawn.

"This'll get you going," he offered, handing her a coffee.

Mike set the stuff on the counter and leaned the cane against the cabinets, then sat down in the midst of Bobby's jigsaw puzzle work of the case. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "I got it," he announced. Then he looked at her and one eyebrow went up. "I think."

Eames sat down with interest.

Mike continued. "Brini Davis. Davis is her married name. She divorced the guy, but didn't change her name back. Her maiden name is… Adams."

"Felicia?"

"Bingo!" Mike said. Bobby appeared in the doorway, groggy, but up and about and of his own volition. "Felicia is Brini's _mom_," Logan continued.

"Felicia, the model?" asked Goren, joining Logan at the kitchen table. Eames slid him her coffee and got up to get the other one.

"The catalog was originally in Purcell's office. Eames found it when we investigated the crime scene." Bobby was remembering, organizing the details in his head.

"Purcell's her father," said Eames. Both men looked at her. "Whoever killed Bishop pulled that page from the catalog, right?"

"Yeah," said Logan. "Bishop had it because he took it the day Purcell was killed."

"You find that page," said Eames, "You're gonna find the link between them. She must have autographed it or something." She brushed her hair back out of her eyes. "That explains her short career," she commented. "Not much work for pregnant models in the 70's."

Goren stared at the kitchen window. "If you're right, then Bishop was having sex with Brini… and her father."

Logan and Eames stared at Goren. "This is starting to smell like a motive," said Logan. "But who killed Bishop?"

No one had the answer to that.

"What about the buttons?" Asked Bobby. "We never found the iridescent lavender buttons from Purcell's shirt."

Logan piped up. "Flores and Bishop were both there. I don't know which one killed him, but they were both there."

They sat in silence for a moment. Logan started passing out doughnuts. Goren spoke first. "Bishop. Bishop had the buttons. We can't find them because _his_ killer has them now." Goren got up stiffly and went to inspect the cane. It was handcarved, with a tiny bit of mother-of-pearl in the handle. "What's this?" he asked Logan.

Logan smiled. "I got it from Freddy, in the park."

Goren smiled. He knew the homeless man as well.

"I paid him with a gift card for that sandwich shop he likes. I told him it was for you, and he was so happy to be able to help."

Goren tried it out on the kitchen floor. "I'll be sure to thank him," he said. He didn't give Logan thanks, but he didn't need to. Logan could see the appreciation in his face as he used the cane to walk back to his chair.

The three sat and hammered out the details of the case, going through each important fact, one at a time. Then Logan packed everything he needed and headed to 1PP to fill in the Captain.

* * *

Holly answered her cell phone on the fifth ring. "Hello," she said. She had a splitting headache. She looked at the clock and realized she'd only been asleep for two hours.

"Hi Holly," Mike said softly. He knew she must have pulled an all-nighter.

"Mike?" She asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"I'm really sorry," he said, "but I gotta ask you a favor."

She sat up and ran her hand through her hair. "What favor?"

"I need you to go back through Bishop's car. Or have somebody do it," he added. "We need to look for buttons."

"Buttons?"

"Iridescent lavender buttons."

She stood and paced her room while she spoke. "I think we would have turned them up the first time around, but if you say so," she conceded. "I'll call you later."

"Thanks, Holly."

"Yeah, no problem," she said. She dialed the shop. "Hey, Dale," she said. "I need you to pull that car again from Major Case. Yeah, it's got my name on it, and Mike Logan is the detective. Start going through it again, and look for buttons. Yeah, thanks."

She tossed the phone down on the dresser and headed for the shower. She didn't have to go in, but she wanted to. For Mike.

* * *

"You're getting around pretty good today," Eames noted.

"It was just a… minor setback," Bobby said. He handed her his keys. "Let's go out."

"Out?"

He shrugged. "For lunch… or whatever. I could use the fresh air."

She grinned. "I'll get my purse."

The cane worked wonders. For the first time, Bobby and Alex were able to go somewhere without her supporting his weight. He still moved slowly, but he was proud to get around without help. She stayed at his side, just in case he was overdoing it.

They made it out of the building. Bobby stood still for a moment, smiling, taking in the sights and sounds of his neighborhood. Then he turned and they continued another half a block to a little café on his side of the street.

She stood by while he slid into the booth with some difficulty. Then Alex slid in across from him. The owner came out, a half-apron at his waist. "Bobby!" the man said happily. He shook his hand vigorously. "So good to see you! What happened?"

"Thanks, Avram, nothing. I'm fine. Long story." He waved off the man's attentions. "This is Alex." He said.

They exchanged polite greetings and ordered drinks. While Avram went after the drinks, Alex and Bobby talked.

"He's been in the neighborhood forever," Bobby said. "I like to come by once a week or so… cup of coffee… read the paper."

She nodded and Avram brought their drinks: a soda for her and an iced tea for Bobby. It was a little early for lunch, so they decided to share some bread and hummus. He'd forgotten to shave, and her eyes followed his whiskers to his lips. "You were amazing," she whispered, wistfully. He looked up at her and she winked.

His lips curled and he reached out a hand, which she took. "I'm glad you're better," she added. "You think Logan knew?"

Goren shrugged off the comment. "He's a friend. He won't say anything."

"He said he had a date the other night."

"Yeah, a girl from CSU," Bobby added. "He told me about her when you… went to your place."

Her eyebrows raised in anticipation. Bobby played with her fingers nervously. "He didn't say much," he added. "Just that she works for CSU and he likes her."

Eames decided not to press for more information, though from the look on his face, Goren knew more than he was saying. "Funny he has any time while he's working this case," she said.

"People make time for the things they want," he said simply. The hummus arrived, and they both took a piece of bread off the plate. They took turns with the bowl of hummus and continued talking.

It was easy to talk to Bobby, she thought. She watched him lick some hummus off his fingers. Even the hard things were getting easier to say.

* * *

Deakins listened to Mike as he used the diagram on the white board to explain everything. Once he was finished, Deakins stood. "I'll talk to Carver. You better pack for Chicago."

Mike looked at him in surprise.

"What, you don't want to go?"

"I didn't say that," Logan grinned.

As Deakins walked back into his office, Mike's cell rang. "Logan," he said.

"Hi, Mike," said Holly. "I got something for you."

"I'll be right there," he said. He threw his suit coat over his shoulder and headed out.

* * *

"I don't know how we missed it the first time," she said, saving her tech any embarrassment. "It was caught in between the carpet and the floor of the trunk." She held up an evidence bag with one small button in it.

Mike took it and looked at it closely. It looked purple, but picked up the rainbow colors from the overhead lights and reflected them back. "Iridescent lavender," he said.

"We also found this," she said, handing him another bag. It contained a dry cleaning tag. Mike set the bags on the hood of the car and extracted his notebook from his pocket. He wrote down the information from the tag.

"Thanks, Holly," he smiled. He looked around to make sure no one else was listening and said in a low voice. "Uhm, the Captain's sending me to Chicago. You want to go with?"

Her eyes sparkled and she glanced around. "I'll have to see if I can get some leave," she said. "How soon?"

He shrugged, "Probably tonight or tomorrow. It's about this case," he added.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Thanks again," he announced for the whole shop to hear, and walked out, notebook still in his hand.

* * *

Eames cut up an apple to snack on and answered her phone. "Eames," she said. It was Mike. "No, he's pretty wiped. Taking a nap." She took a bite of an apple slice and sat down at the table. "Sure," she said, writing down the dry cleaning info. "I'll check it out."

* * *

Logan was already at the airport. When the NYPD sent you out of town, you went… before they had time to change their mind. He called Holly and told her he was already headed to Chicago. She told him she'd try to meet him there tonight if she could manage it.

* * *

Alex wrote Bobby a note and left it on the kitchen table. Then she grabbed her purse and went out, glad to be able to get out and work. She headed downstairs and hailed a cab.

The driver dropped her at the cleaner's. She went in, and showed them information from the slip and her badge. The young woman handed over a bag that contained a pair of slacks and a dress shirt, nothing fancy. "Was there a name on this?" Eames asked.

The lady asked for a minute and scoured the slip in her hand. "He pay before we clean. Cash. Only name Oscar."

"What was the condition of the clothes when he brought them?"

"He say it juice. Bottle break," she gestured rather than finish her sentence. "But it blood," she said definitively. "Spots everywhere."

Eames got a description of Oscar from the woman and her son, and scribbled it on her notepad.

"Thanks," said Eames. She took the clothes, the tag, and a copy of the sales slip with her and headed for the office.

She felt like a celebrity as she walked to her desk. Everyone seemed happy to see her. Most asked about Goren. She knocked on Deakins' door and he waved her in. She waited while he wrapped up his phone conversation.

"Eames! Good to see you," he said. "How's Bobby?"

She smiled. "Good."

"I sent Logan to Chicago."

"I know, that's why I'm here. He called me, asked me to run down this dry cleaning tag for him." She told Deakins what she found out.

"Call Logan," he said. "He may need to look for this 'Oscar' in Chicago."

Since he was in flight, Logan couldn't answer. She left him a voice mail and headed back to Bobby's place.

Bobby was at the table, working from his binder. He had torn out several pages from his ledger and had them scattered over the table top.

"Hi," she said. He barely looked up, he was so engrossed in his work.

"Hey," he said back. "I might be on to something," he said. She put down her purse and sat beside him.

"Look. Bishop has this thing going with Purcell. Purcell has this daughter nobody knows about with Felicia. She's grown now, he doesn't have to send child support, everything's done. Then he gets Kitchum to deliver wallpaper to his house." Bobby placed a page of Logan's handwriting on the table. "While Kitchum's in Purcell's house… he finds something… maybe the catalog…I don't know what… that turns him on to Felicia." He rooted around, found another page of notes. "For some reason, he tells Bishop about it."

"And Bishop figures out he's sleeping with Purcell's daughter?"

"Yeah." Bobby fidgeted with his pencil. "And Kitchum, not realizing the kind of person Bishop is, emails Felicia a couple of times, thinking maybe… extortion?"

"Meanwhile, Bishop figures he has to lose one of his lovers."

Bobby pointed a finger at her in agreement. "So he convinces Flores to have a… a… threesome with him and Purcell." He tilted his head slightly and continued. "Only it's not really about the sex. He knows Flores' background, he brings in the dagger and… turns it into something else."

"Purcell didn't have any other custom shirts. The amethyst one he was wearing when he died… wasn't his."

"He'd just been with Bishop the night before."

"Grabbed the wrong shirt when he packed up in the morning… or maybe took it as a… memento… maybe Bishop didn't know he took the shirt."

"So after they kill him, he decides to keep his expensive buttons?"

"Maybe."

She waited while he thought it through a little longer. "Bishop found out about me." He snapped his fingers. "The receptionist. He found out that I was looking for the buttons… he must have known I made the Chicago connection."

"He was trying to protect Brini."

Another long silence, and then Bobby said, "They are all trying to protect Brini. Bishop's killer is in Chicago. He knows Brini, too… somehow."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_ Another long silence, and then Bobby said, "They are all trying to protect Brini. Bishop's killer is in Chicago. He knows Brini, too… somehow."_

Logan checked in with Chicago PD and was given a courtesy desk, phone, and computer. The desk was so small, he couldn't even fit his long legs underneath it. They also gave him a temporary partner, a young kid who didn't look old enough to wear a suit. His name was Sean. Sean O'Connell. Mike just thought of him as The Kid.

First, Mike had to return Eames' call. He spoke with her in hushed tones, not sure how much he wanted The Kid to hear. After hanging up, he got on the computer and set to work looking for a birth certificate for Brini Davis.

He found it, but the father's name wasn't listed. Dead end. "Damnit."

"What is it?" The Kid asked eagerly.

"No father's name on the birth certificate. I need something, a reason to go talk to Morales."

Sean smiled his freckled smile. "We can just go say 'hello'," he said with his Midwestern attitude.

Mike didn't like The Kid's smug look, but he got up and followed him out the door.

* * *

Holly slept the entire flight, got her bag, and then got a shuttle to the hotel. She called her brother Danny to let him know she made it safely, and so he could alert the rest of the family. They still treated her like a kid, but she knew it was just brotherly love. Mike was a new friend to her, after all. She couldn't blame them for being overprotective. Sipping a glass of water, she pulled the curtains and looked out on the city below. She was right on the Pier, with a view of it all. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and went out to check out the sights.

* * *

Felicia Morales opened the door for the two officers. "Sean O'Connell, Chicago Police. And this is Mike Logan, NYPD," Sean said. "Would you mind if we come in and talk?" he asked.

"No, come on in," she said, opening the door wider so they could pass. She led them into a modest living room and sat them on her couch. She sat in her easy chair, facing them.

"Ma'am," Logan began. "We're investigating the death of Lester Purcell."

She was genuinely surprised. "Lester's dead?! Oh, no…" she put her hand to her mouth.

"You knew him?" asked Sean, with a gentler tone.

She nodded. "Years ago. We had a child together. Well, not together, we didn't raise her together. His career was more important to him than a family, so I left, moved to Chicago."

Mike made notes in his book while she spoke.

"What happened?" she asked.

Mike cleared his throat, feeling a little sorry for her, now that they'd met face to face. "He was murdered," he said quietly.

The grief was apparent on her face. "He was a good man," she said. "We never did anything formally, you know, but he sent me money to make sure Brini was provided for. Even after I married, he sent money for Brini."

"Does Brini know he was her father?" Mike asked.

"No, that was his one request, that she never know who her father was. I suppose I could tell her now."

"Don't do that, just yet," suggested Mike. "Wait until we solve the case."

The two detectives stayed with her another hour, asking about her life history and making notes of names that might be important. Annoying as he was, Mike saw The Kid was good at his job. He decided he'd lighten up on him a little.

* * *

Mike waited for her in the lobby. She snuck up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around with a pleased smile at his lips. "Hi," he said.

"Hi!" She was happy to be on vacation, and happy to have a friend to share it with. He offered her his hand, and she took hold of it and let him lead her to the waiting car outside. He opened the door for her and she stepped in.

He got in the driver's seat and fired up the GPS. "It's a rental," he explained. "At least with you here, I don't have to worry about a break down," he teased.

They drove to the restaurant, their conversation broken occasionally by the instructions on the GPS. She asked him about the Chicago side of the case, and he filled her in. "Tomorrow, me and The Kid drive to Elgin, to meet this Brini girl."

"The Kid?" she asked.

"Sorry. Sean," he explained. "One of Chicago's finest."

"I take it you don't like him?"

"I'll tell you after dinner. He recommended the restaurant." Mike parked the car and walked her inside. The plan was a quiet dinner, followed by a late night at a blues bar. They were both looking forward to it. She told him about her time exploring the Pier, and how much she loved the giant radio flyer wagon right across from the hotel.

"My brothers used to pull me around in one when I was a kid," she explained. "I think it was kind of like my first car."

Her smile was contagious. He couldn't resist her charm.

* * *

Sean O'Connell sat at his computer until midnight. This New York cop was full of himself, but he did have an interesting case. Sean looked up everything he could about Brini Davis and searched for any clue of who 'Oscar' might be. He got a copy of her high school yearbooks and scanned through every picture. At last, he was rewarded. When Brini was a sophomore, there was a senior named Oscar DeWalt. He wrote the name down and looked him up on the computer.

A full rap sheet filled the screen before him. Assault, battery, robbery, drugs, weapons. He was a very violent man.

* * *

Mike held her steady as they stumbled out of the elevator and in the direction of her room. They had both had too much to drink, but Logan could still walk straight. She opened the door of her room and ran to the bathroom to relieve herself.

He looked out her picture window at the lights on the Pier. She had a terrific view. When she returned, she hugged him in a friendly way. "It's nice, isn't it?" she said.

He pulled her in closer and looked deep in her eyes. He could think of something else that was nice. Mike leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

Holly kissed back. Within moments, the two of them were pawing at each other frantically, their lips in constant contact.

Holly pushed him away. "Wait, wait, wait!"

He respected her wishes. The room was silent for several minutes, except for the heavy breathing as they both tried to regain control of themselves.

He was worried that he'd offended her. She was worried that she'd given him the wrong idea.

At last, Holly spoke. "You're… you're too fast for me, Mike." She licked her lips and continued, "I like to go slow. I'm not that kind of girl."

He pulled his shirt a little straighter and smiled. "Okay," he said respectfully.

She moved back into his arms and gave him a tender kiss. "Good night, Mike."

"Good night, Holly," he breathed back, stealing one more kiss from her before she pushed him out the door.

* * *

In the morning, Mike drove the rental car to the police department headquarters to pick up The Kid. Holly's sudden cold shoulder had sobered him up a bit, and he used the time last night to take a cab back out, pick up the car, and drive it back. After that, he finished off a bottle of whiskey in his hotel room.

"Morning, Logan," O'Connell said.

"Morning," Mike grunted. He switched seats and let the kid drive. He was hung over and didn't feel like it.

Sean adjusted the seat and mirrors and then they got underway. "I found Oscar," he was explaining. Logan perked up a little bit. Sean rattled off some of the highlights from his rap sheet.

"Good, so they know each other. Now we have to figure out if she knew what he was up to when he killed Bishop."

"And find some evidence," reminded Sean.

"Probable cause will get us a warrant, and then we'll find it," said Mike. He put dark sunglasses on and leaned back in the seat to take a nap.

"Bad date last night?"

"No. Why?" Mike grunted back.

"Just… well, never mind."

* * *

For the first time since he'd gotten home from the hospital, Bobby took a shower without assistance. He felt good, inside and out. He hadn't had a pain pill since… since the morning _after_, and he finally felt like he was really getting better.

She was still asleep when he came out, his hair dripping onto the carpet. She'd been up late, doing something on the computer, probably work. Deakins had agreed for her to work "from home" half days for a while so she wouldn't use up all her sick leave while she was nursing Bobby back to health.

He slipped on some boxers and his now favorite pair of shorts and took his cane with him to the kitchen. Bobby opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. He found an onion and a green pepper and set them out on a cutting board. Then he dug out an omelet pan. Bobby diced the vegetables and started them sautéing in the pan with some olive oil.

While the vegetables simmered, he brewed a pot of coffee. Then he made two perfect omelets.

Alex wandered in, summoned by the delicious smell. She rubbed her eyes and sat down. He leaned on his cane and brought her a cup of coffee.

"Smells good," she said.

He answered by placing a plate in front of her. He made two more trips for his own coffee and eggs, then sat down with her at the table.

"Oh, Bobby, this is delicious," Alex moaned.

He smiled privately and cut a piece off with his fork and knife. As they ate, he peeked at her now and then to see that she was still enjoying it.

Eames stood and went to refill her coffee. When she came back to the table, she pulled her chair right next to Bobby. She leaned in, and kissed his neck, just under his ear.

With a shy smile, Bobby held a forkful of his omelet up for her to take a bite. She did, and while she was chewing, he snuck a kiss on her neck. The next kiss was full on, face to face. Bobby's fork skittered to the floor and he raised his hands to her face, petting her hair back out of the way. He broke off the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her.

She petted him gently with her fingers, feeling the warmth of his face on her skin.

* * *

Mike's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he jerked awake. He fumbled with it, trying to get to it before it stopped. He looked at the screen. It was a text from Holly. "Sorry about last night," she said.

Mike turned the phone so there was no chance of The Kid seeing it. He typed back, "OK. See U 2 nite?" He was a horribly slow texter, had to read every number to find out which letters went with which button.

A moment later it buzzed again. "Call me later," she said. He smiled and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he sat up straight in the seat.

The car stopped in front of Simple Notions. "Here we go," Logan said as they both got out and stretched their legs.

Sean led the way. Brini greeted them cheerfully. "You don't look like you're here to buy notions," she said.

They showed her their badges and made introductions. "We just have a few questions for you, Ms. Davis," Mike said.

"Sure," she replied.

"We're still looking for Mr. Bishop. I have the information you gave the department over the phone. I was wondering, do you know someone named Oscar?"

She looked confused. "No, I can't say that I do…"

Sean cleared his throat and jumped in. "Your high school yearbook says otherwise."

She still seemed confused. "High school? That was a long time ago… Oscar, Oscar…" Suddenly, her face lit up. "Oh, yeah, I remember Oscar. He chased off this guy one time for me. He was nice."

Mike and Sean exchanged looks. "Chased off some guy?" Mike asked.

"Yeah," she said. She hung little cards with buttons on them on a rack while she spoke. "This boy… was getting a little too fresh with me in the hall… I told him to stop, and he didn't… and next thing I know, Oscar tackled him. I'd never really noticed him before that. My girlfriends got me out of there before I had the chance to thank him."

The two detectives shared another glance and then Mike started wandering around, looking at the buttons. "We spoke with your mother yesterday," Sean continued. "What do you know about Steven Bishop?"

"He's my boyfriend," she said simply. "He used to order buttons from me online, and then he started showing up in town here once or twice a month." Her face reddened. "He usually doesn't talk much in between visits, so I was really surprised when you said he was missing."

"You sure you haven't seen Oscar since high school?" Mike asked from across the room.

"No, I haven't."

"Look at these!" Mike said, "These are $15 a piece!" he held them up against his shirt. "That would make a nice impression, wouldn't it?"

Sean ignored him. Brini went over and picked the buttons out of Logan's hand. "These are moonglow," she explained. "They're vintage. About as nice as you can get, really."

"Ms. Davis," Sean said, "I really hate to tell you this, but we think your boyfriend is dead."

Brini's head shot up in alarm. "What?!"

"There was blood spatter in his car," Mike said quietly, moving closer to her. "We think he was murdered."

"W—w—why?"

"We think he killed someone else, and then someone killed him."

She looked back and forth at the two detectives in alarm. "Th-that can't be," she said. "He was so kind."

Mike moved in, smiled reassuringly. "C'mon, Brini. What'd you really know about him? He blows in here a couple of times a month and you have a hot weekend and that's it." Suddenly, he was glad that Holly had turned him down last night.

Tears came to her eyes. "He was so sweet, and gentle." She looked back at Mike. "I didn't know him well, okay? That's true. But he was very sweet to me."

From an upstairs room across the street, Oscar DeWalt put his binoculars down.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sean O'Connell sat across from Logan in a booth at a little pizza shop in Elgin. In between the plates of food they had their notes out, and copies of a sketch of Oscar DeWalt. They inquired of the workers if they'd ever seen him. No one could say for certain.

Even Sean was becoming frustrated. He rubbed his eyes and cussed under his breath.

"Welcome to Major Case," joked Logan. He took a bite of his pizza and wiped his hands on a napkin.

Sean finished his soda and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. "Elgin PD," he said. "They made DeWalt's car." Both men stood up and dropped money on the table as the left.

They hurried to Logan's rental and Sean drove to the street the text indicated. They parked the car and got out, walking up to a patrol car on site. Both men showed the officers their badges and introduced themselves.

"New York City?" The officer asked Logan, who nodded. He shook his head in disbelief and led them to the abandoned car. "That house over there called it in abandoned," he said. "Plates trace back to DeWalt."

Logan glanced around. He was far from his territory, his squad. "You mind if I…?" he asked, indicating the trunk with his thumb.

"Knock yourself out," the man said. Logan went and popped the trunk from inside the car. Sean peered into the trunk at a bloody sledgehammer.

* * *

Logan spent half of the ride back on a conference call with Eames and Goren, filling them in on events in Elgin.

Eames pushed the button to end the call. She and Bobby were at the kitchen table. Bobby's binder was in front of him, with all the notes he took during the call.

"She hadn't seen him since high school," Eames said.

"He's… stalking her…" Bobby thought out loud. He rooted in the box and pulled out the multiple page printout of DeWalt's criminal behavior. Eames had printed it for him in the morning, and he needed to check it again. He read it in silence. "This murder…it's not like anything he's ever done before." Bobby showed her the page. "He's been violent, but never to the point of murder." He leaned forward and took a deep breath with his hands stretched across his mouth. "Maybe he's scared?"

"So he ran?"

"What if he _was_ stalking her? He would have seen Logan and, and…" Bobby snapped his fingers, trying to remember the Chicago cop's name.

"The Kid?" she smiled.

"He would have seen them talking to her." Bobby looked up at his partner. "He's back in Chicago. He ran to get away from Logan."

Eames picked up the phone and called Mike back.

"The car engine was crapped out," Mike explained. "That's why he dumped the car."

"And the sledgehammer." Eames added.

"Yeah."

"Now I just have to figure out where he got a car to get to Chicago."

"Why would he bother taking a sledgehammer all the way back to Chicago from New York?" Eames asked aloud.

"Construction!" Logan and Goren shouted at once.

* * *

Logan hung up and told Sean to pull over. He swapped seats with him so he could drive and Sean could call his people into action.

When they pulled into the police station in Chicago, they were met by one of the other detectives with a handful of paperwork.

"Tax returns showed employment with three different construction companies. Elgin cops tracked it down. He borrowed a truck from Construction Associates, license number right here," the detective said, pointing to the writing on the paper. "We have a warrant out for his arrest now."

Then there was nothing to do but wait for the call to come in. Logan dialed Holly's number. "Hey Holly, things are heating up around here. I'm not sure if we can get a drink tonight or not. I'll call you later, okay?"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the call came in. O'Connell and Logan raced out and jumped in O'Connell's car. O'Connell turned the lights and siren on and they flew across town. They arrived in an empty lot. The construction vehicle was parked askew. A uniformed officer came and reported to The Kid. "It's empty. No sign of him yet, but there's a lot of condemned buildings around here. It's gonna take a while to search them."

The SWAT teams went in first, wearing night vision goggles. Mike & Sean followed behind, hearing quick and loud shouts of "Clear!" over and over as they went through each tenement level.

The heaviness of the Kevlar was a constant reminder that this was a dangerous situation. After the first building was cleared, they headed for the next one. Uniforms hung around their patrol cars, keeping vigilant in case DeWalt might make a break for it while the SWAT teams had their attentions elsewhere.

As they approached the second building, they heard an excited "over there!" O'Connell and Logan bolted toward the shadowy figure, weapons in hand. It was the drive for a service entrance to a high rise. It dead ended at a garage door. Boards were nailed up over the glass, and some of the bricks were loose and falling from decay.

Logan moved ahead cautiously while Sean got hold of a flashlight. A brick fell, landing near Logan's feet. He scrambled back out of the way, only to hear a board swing dangerously close to his head. O'Connell grabbed DeWalt by the feet and yanked him back to ground level. DeWalt fought like a caged animal, knocking first O'Connell, then Logan off their feet. At last one of the SWAT guys pinned him and Sean put the cuffs on him and read him his rights.

After he was in a car and on his way to the station, Sean and Logan sat down together, licking their wounds. "O'Connell," said Logan.

Sean looked up at him.

"Thanks." They sat a few minutes, giving their bodies time to come down from the adrenaline rush. Sean kept touching a bloody spot on his head and looking at his fingers. "Let's go get you looked at," said Logan, helping him up, and walking him to the arriving ambulance.

* * *

He waited for her in the hotel lobby. He hid his hand inside his coat sleeve, but there was no way to hide the butterfly closure on his cheekbone.

"What the hell?" said Holly as she came to greet him. Her hands reached for his and she found the bandage he'd been trying to hide.

"It's nothing. Really. A couple stitches. Nothing."

"Well, did you get him, at least?"

Logan smiled and nodded. "We got him."

* * *

Eames, Logan, and Goren sat in Deakins' office. Deakins finished reading Mike's report and looked over his desk at them. "Good work," he said. "One more loose end, and then you can take some time off," he told Logan.

"Captain," Eames began, "We've decided to do the interrogation together."

Deakins nodded. He looked at Bobby. "And when can I expect you back, detective?"

Bobby turned his head as he spoke. "Soon as I get clearance from the doctor. He said probably another week."

Deakins started to herd them out of the room. He tapped Bobby's arm. "Go home, then."

Bobby and Alex turned to him. "I'd like to… watch..." Bobby said. He wanted to be there for Eames, give her his observations and suggestions.

Deakins looked back and forth between the two partners. Solidarity, as always. "All right, you'll be in the observation room with _me_. Don't try and pull anything," He warned Bobby.

After a brief discussion about how to approach the suspect, they separated. Deakins and Goren in the observation room; Logan and Eames in the interrogation room.

Ben Flores sat next to his lawyer in his orange jumpsuit. He looked harder than he had the last time Mike had seen him. There were no tears in his eyes now.

Alex introduced herself and opened a file folder in front of her. "Mr. Flores," she said, "We have some questions related to the death of Lester Purcell."

The lawyer whispered in Flores' ear.

"Where were you on the night of Tuesday," she rattled off the date.

"With Steven."

"Steven Bishop," Mike interrupted, wanting to make sure there could be no misinterpretation of facts that he could slide on later.

"Yes, Steven Bishop."

"Where were you?"

"Steven said he had something different planned for us… a threesome. I didn't like the idea, at first. But Steven convinced me that he loved me, and the other guy was just… like a sex toy… we'd use him to have a little fun and that would be it." He looked at the detectives, who were listening intently.

"We went to Purcell's office."

Bobby leaned on his cane and studied Flores' body language.

"He was an old guy, older than I expected, but he got so excited about the whole thing. I don't know… he looked like he knew Steven already. I didn't like that."

They waited for him to continue. "Steven tied his hands back. He was so excited, and playing along. Then Steven brought out the knife."

"The dagger, you mean?" asked Logan.

"Yeah. It was a Boker… a 7 inch blade. Nice knife." He opened one hand, rubbed his palm, then closed it again. "I started unbuttoning Purcell's shirt, and Steven teased him with the knife. He whispered in his ear, then put the cold blade against his skin. Purcell was getting turned on by it."

Bobby knocked once on the window. Eames left the interrogation room and went to see what Bobby had to say.

"He's lying. When he spoke of the dagger, he felt his palm. He's remembering what it felt like in his hand. Bishop didn't tease Purcell with the knife, _he _did."

Eames nodded and went back in. She sat down. "You had a lot of knife fights in LA," she said, looking at the file in front of her. "You ever use one for sexual pleasure before?"

The question surprised him, and his lawyer whispered in his ear again. "I did a lot of things back then. A lot of drugs, too."

"You're saying you can't remember if you _played_ with knives before?" piped in Logan as he paced in the corner.

"No, I- I just did a lot of things back then."

Eames repeated her question. "Did you ever use a knife for sexual pleasure?"

He stared at her. "Okay, okay, sure I did. I was the knife man, I did everything with it. I even used to eat my ice cream with it, okay?"

Logan leaned over the table and put a finger out on the tabletop. "So who was teasing Purcell?"

"All right, I did that part. But it was Steven's idea! Steven unbuttoned his shirt, and I…"

Flores kicked the table leg, shaking everything on the table. "He was getting turned on… by that Old Man, so I turned Steven towards me and I held the knife against him. He was afraid. He was sweating and I just popped one of his buttons off. Steven paid attention to _me_ after that. We made love right in front of him."

His face twisted with the memory. "Then the old bastard had to start talking." Flores was angry now. "He said things to Steven… he could only have known if…" He folded his arms and stared at the wall.

"You were jealous," Eames prompted.

"I gave Steven the knife. I told him to try it on the Old Man."

Another knock on the window, and Eames went out again. "He said he coached Kitchum about stabbing _me,_" said Bobby gravely. "Ask him how he coached Bishop to be able to kill Purcell."

Eames went back in.

"So that's it," Mike said. "You handed the knife to the guy who had feelings for Purcell, and he just stabbed him like it was as easy as carving a ham."

Eames sat down, and drew Flores gaze away from Logan and back to her. "Purcell had never handled a knife before," she said quietly. "When you got Kitchum to stab detective Goren, you said you had to coach him beforehand." She waited, then leaned forward. "Steven needed coaching, too."

Logan jumped in, "How do you coach somebody about that, huh? I hear the lab techs practice drawing blood on a piece of chicken…"

Flores glowered at Logan.

Logan continued, "I figured Bishop was a creep. He probably found it easy to stab Purcell. Almost as easy as it was to sleep around on you."

Flores tensed up, made his hands into fists.

Eames leaned forward. "Did you have to coach Steven?" Her voice became a whisper. "Or did you do it yourself?"

Flores leapt to his feet and shouted, "He was wearing Steven's shirt! The Old Bastard was wearing Steven's shirt! Steven didn't love him, he loved _me!_"

"So you killed him, to teach Steven a lesson," said Mike.

Deakins moved closer to the glass, his arms folded.

"I cut him up! Steven was _mine_!"

The lawyer moved to get his client to stop speaking, but it was obvious he was afraid of him. Finally, Flores dropped back into his chair.

* * *

Mike was surprised to see Holly at his apartment door. He opened it, and she nearly pulled him outside with her. He followed her down the steps and out into the street.

It was still primered, but it was complete. The Plymouth sat on the curb like a jewel, the rain giving it a superb shine in the streetlights.

She looked at him, that sparkle present in her green eyes. "Let's go!" She ran down and hopped in the driver's seat. He climbed in, surprised at how much leg room he had. The engine fired up and they started down the street.

Mike felt like a man out of time. For a moment, he imagined everything in black and white, like an old movie. Then he looked at Holly driving and couldn't see her in black and white. She was in living color. Her smile was glued on, her eyes still danced with electricity, and her cheeks had a healthy glow. When they came to a red light, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

* * *

Bobby and Alex sat on her sister's couch, enjoying the after-dinner conversation. Nate ran and jumped on Bobby's lap, causing him to gasp in surprise. The whole room held their breath.

Nate was oblivious. "You were in the hopistal," he said.

Goren held his arms loosely around the boy. "That's right, I was."

"You were sick."

"Yes, I was sick. But I got flowers from your Mommy and a card from you, Nate. You helped me get better. My friends helped me to get better," he added, and gave Alex a look.

Nate slid off his lap and went to play with some toy cars on the floor. Liz apologized for Nate jumping on Bobby, but he shrugged it off. He picked up his cane and laid it across his lap, drumming on the wood.

Alex stood. Bobby had given her the signal. They said their thank you's and goodbyes and walked outside. It was starting to rain.

Bobby got in the passenger seat and Alex drove them to her place. He didn't need it anymore, but she helped him up the sidewalk and into the house. Once they were inside, with the door shut and a single lamp on, Bobby took her into his arms. They enjoyed a long, slow kiss.

He reached his hand down, exploring. She stopped him, and looked at him curiously.

"Do you need a doctor's note?" He joked.

She sank into his arms, and soft kisses melted into much, much more.

THE END


End file.
